


Don't Threaten Me With A Good Time

by narigonia



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Awesome Howling Commandos, Bachelor party gone wrong, Captain America Steve Rogers/Modern Bucky Barnes, Drunken Kissing, Drunken Shenanigans, First Meetings, Fluff, Hook-Up, Howling Commandos - Freeform, Humor, M/M, Meet-Cute, Modern Bucky Barnes, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, POV Multiple, Party, Party Crashing, Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Shrunkyclunks, The Howling Commandos Are Constantly Getting into Scrapes, War Veteran Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-16
Updated: 2018-11-03
Packaged: 2019-06-28 03:57:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15699678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/narigonia/pseuds/narigonia
Summary: "Who knew that the Avengers could throw such a rager? Well, we all knew Ironman could but he wasn’t here last night so we thought… I mean, even without him we had to kick out a few people.” The hotel receptionist chatted softly as she dug around in her desk.“The Avengers?” Bucky practically squeaked.“Oh yes, I mean, that was the only party here last night. That must have been the one you went to, right?” The receptionist stopped and gave him a questioning look.Bucky and his unit hadn’t just crashed a fancy party.They had crashed a fancy party hosted by the fucking Avengers.





	1. In Which a Groom is Lost

**Author's Note:**

> This story is 100% inspired by the Panic at the Disco song "Don't Threaten Me with a Good Time." The first time I heard it all I could picture was a group of very hungover Howlies trying to piece together the aftermath of a night that did not go as planned. Enjoy!

**Friday, May 11th 8:00 AM**

**Bedford-Stuyvesant, Brooklyn  
**

James Buchanan Barnes woke up to a shrill ringing in his head.

And outside of his head.

And everywhere really.

His entire body was one gigantic ache borne of stupidity, hubris, and Dum Dum’s idiotic pleas that they “recreate their youth one last time.”

The shrill noise stopped and Bucky let out a sigh of relief. This turned out to be premature.

As soon as he finished exhaling the shrill ringing started once more.

“Sarge would you pick up that god damned phone and put us out of our misery,” Gabe’s voice sounded like shit, which was exactly how Bucky felt.

Bucky groaned and flopped off of the tiny couch. The jarring motion momentarily sent vomit clawing up his esophagus. But with a fortitude borne from years spent in the Army, a brief stint as a POW, and some wild teenage years, Bucky swallowed it back down. He then reached one hand out and felt around for whose ever phone was slowly killing him with its high-pitched rings.

After not two, but three tries he managed to swipe the receive button on the phone screen.

“Hello?”

“Barnes! Where the _fuck_ is my fiancé?” The woman’s voice was not made for early mornings. Particularly ones that followed a night Bucky could only remember in snatches.

“Mindy?” He managed to croak out. It had to be Mindy. Dugan’s bride, though lovely, could be a bit of a harpy.

Dugan also happened to be the only fiancé Bucky knew at the moment.

“He’s supposed to be meeting me and my parents for lunch at noon and I can’t find him. If he’s not there Barnes I swear to whatever god you hold holy I will kill you myself. FIND HIM AND GET HIM TO LUNCH! And don’t you dare be late to the rehearsal dinner tonight. I expect you and all of the other groomsmen there by 5:00 sharp!”

There was a soft click as the line went dead.

Mindy and Bucky had what you might call a “love/hate” sort of relationship. They both respected what the other did, and had done, for Dugan (Bucky saving Dugan’s physical ass at least four times out in the field, Mindy saving his emotional/mental ass when Dugan returned stateside) but before this Bucky wouldn’t have ever gone so far as to say that they were friends.

Now he could say with certainty that they never would be.

With a noise that sounded like something being hit by a car instead of a fully grown, highly decorated sergeant, Bucky pushed himself up off of the floor. He looked down blearily at the phone in his hand and noticed with only mild surprise that it was Dugan’s.

That explained both the incessant phone calls and why Mindy couldn’t locate the man herself.

He turned his gaze to his surroundings.

The apartment was small and, while the realtor had called it a studio, it was closer to a closet. The only thing it had going for it was that it was on the top floor of an old brownstone and, as such, had tall ceilings.

Still, it was small and it took Bucky only a fraction of a second to see that there was only one other person currently occupying the space. It was Gabe and not, unfortunately, Dugan. The world spun around him as he realized that, with a little over 24 hours until the wedding, he’d broken probably the most important rule of being a best man - don’t lose the groom.

The world still spinning, Bucky stumbled into his tiny bathroom and promptly threw up everything in his stomach. He allowed himself a few moments to rest his clammy forehead against the cool toilet seat and thanked his personal gods that he’d actually scrubbed the entire place down before his friends had arrived yesterday.

Feeling marginally more stable he pulled himself upright again and winced as he looked in the mirror. There were great big circles under his bloodshot eyes and he was rocking a pretty impressive 5 o’clock shadow. His hair, perfectly styled last night, was now sticking up into various points. His mouth was chapped but less from dehydration and more from… well… it looked like he’d been kissing someone.

Hardcore making out with someone actually.

A flash of memory lit up his mind.

_Large, warm hands digging into his hips. Lips pressing hungrily into his own. A soft beard tickling his neck as its owner trailed kisses and bites down his throat._

Bucky let out what may have been a squeal and quickly pulled down his collar, ripping his T-shirt almost in two. He wished this level of destruction was an infrequent occurrence in his life, but with a metal arm it had become a bit commonplace.

The destroyed shirt was quickly forgotten as his eyes landed on what lay beneath. He gasped at the row of hickeys trailing from his collarbone down his shoulder and onto his chest.

What in the holy hell had he done last night? More importantly, _who had he done last night?_

He concentrated on breathing in and out for a few moments while he furiously tried to recall the night’s events. But all he could remember were snatches of hands and lips, blue eyes, and a beautiful laugh.

Scrunching his eyes shut he willed himself to remember more. After a few minutes he came up with a blurry impression of dancing and tripping and two strong arms catching him. A dark closet… yes, there had definitely been a closet and skillful hands wandering all over Bucky’s body.

Okay. So he couldn’t exactly remember who this guy was, but what he did remember seemed way too good to be true. Obviously, he’d taken Dugan’s demand that they “recreate their youth” a bit too seriously and drunk Bucky had decided to relive his younger twink days.

“Not the time for this Barnes,” he counseled himself. “We have bigger problems right now then hooking up with a stranger who you cannot remember. We need to focus on Dugan, not on mystery closet hook-ups.”

He breathed in and out a few more times. Then he splashed some cold water on his face, patted down his hair with his wet hands until it looked more like a drowned hedgehog then an electrocuted one, brushed his teeth, and dragged himself back out into the main room.

He still felt like a pile of human garbage, his shirt was still ripped, and he still had the world’s biggest line of hickeys on his neck. But he had a mission and it wasn’t the first time he’d felt like garbage on a mission.

It was the first time he had this many hickeys though.

Bucky hobbled over to the other occupant of his apartment, his fingers rubbing at his temples.

“Gabe... Gabe... GABE!”

“Huh?” Gabe jerked upright so violently that he promptly fell off Bucky’s tiny twin bed.

The other man let out what sounded suspiciously like a sob before pushing himself up off of the floor and half collapsing back on the bed.

“What is it?” He groaned, the words muffled by the bedspread.

“We have a big problem. Two-thirds of our god damned unit is missing including the groom and Mindy is going to have our heads on a platter if we don’t find him by lunch.”

Gabe covered his ears and frowned.

“Slow down Sarge, slow the fuck down. Can’t you tell when a man is dying?” Gabe let out another groan and clutched his forehead as he tried, and failed, to stand upright. “Am I already dead? Did I die last night? Oh god, if this is purgatory and I have to spend the rest of eternity with Sarge I will kill my own ghost.”

“Gabe? Buddy? You’re doing that thing again when you say your thoughts out loud. I know you’re hurting, I threw up something that looked like a hairball, but we gotta move out and find the rest of those idiots.”

“Why don’t you just try their phones?” Gabe moaned from below his pillow.

“I don’t have mine. We had to turn them in at that party, remember? Apparently, I grabbed Dugan’s on the way out.”

“So call ‘em on that.”

Bucky sighed and rubbed his pounding forehead.

“I can’t Gabe, I don’t know the code to open it. I could only talk to Mindy because she called it first and I sure as hell don’t have everyone’s number memorized.”

Gabe moaned again but began to pat down his own rumbled dress pants. He pulled something out of one of his pockets and tossed it haphazardly toward Bucky.

“Gabe.”

“Whaaaaat?!” Gabe asked, face back in the bedspread.

“This is a chocolate bar. Not a phone.”

“What?!” Gabe finally sat upright again, his face just as bleary and messy as Bucky’s.

“Then where the fuck is my phone?” He asked.

Bucky sighed and rubbed a hand down his face.

He was fucked.


	2. In Which a Party is Crashed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who left a comment or kudos on the first chapter! I had so much fun writing this next installment, I hope you have just as much fun reading it. This is unbeta'd, so please excuse any typos etc. As always, drop a note and let me know what you think.

**Thursday, May 10th 10:15 PM**

**New York Marriott at the Brooklyn Bridge, Brooklyn**

The party was supposed to be a gesture of goodwill, an attempt to “humanize them” and show the good people of New York City that the Avengers were “just like everyone else.”

In Steve’s opinion, the only thing this party was showing was how the Avengers really, really, weren’t normal in any sense of the term.

Not that he would ever say that to Pepper.

Especially not when she was on her impromptu honeymoon.

The problem, Steve mused, with trying to take the Avengers down from the Tower to mix and mingle with everyday people was that the Avengers were a bunch of fucked up misfits who barely had enough social skills between them to manage riding the subway without a bystander getting accidentally stabbed.

Steve included himself in that description. He had never been great with large groups of strangers.

Making speeches? He could do that. Performing in a chorus line? He made it work. But making small talk? Ugh. He would rather fight an army of Hydra agents.

Steve let out a deep sigh as he surveyed the party from his hiding spot behind a large potted plant. One by one he located his teammates and took stock of how they were doing:

\- Bruce kept jumping every time someone tried to talk to him.

\- Clint was almost too drunk to stand.

\- Wanda was pretending not to speak English.

\- Natasha was doing okay. If you could count the crowd of men surrounding her, while various girlfriends and wives glared on, as “okay.”

\- Vision was too weird to even try anything with. He had been placed at the entrance and put in charge of ensuring that no one snuck in with any phones or recording devices. Since the event was supposed to be _casual_ and _candid_ there was a strict no electronics policy.

\- Sam was doing perfectly, but he could only talk to so many people at a time.

As for Tony and Thor, the former had surprised them all by sweeping Pepper off for a surprise wedding and honeymoon. The latter had bailed on the event at the last minute due to troubles at home.

And Steve, well, Steve had on his big showgirl smile, but he could tell his act wasn’t nearly as good as it had been when he’d been young, green, and eager to do the right thing. Or eager to do what other people told him was the right thing.

What he really wanted right now was to be curled up on his couch, watching reruns on HGTV. Instead, he had to smooze and swan around with members of New York’s elite and various reporters while dodging questions about either a) his new beard or b) his announcement last year that he was bisexual.

You would think after a year of reports and stories all about his sexuality and what it meant for America and how it represented the new social trends of this generation and blah blah blah thinkpiece after thinkpiece everyone would have run out of questions.

They hadn’t.

He gave himself five more minutes before, with another giant sigh, Steve stepped back out from behind the plant and pasted on another showgirl smile.

“This party is a disaster,” he jumped as Clint appeared out of nowhere next to him. Every time Steve was at the point of questioning why Clint even bothered to be a superhero he was reminded of Clint’s pretty amazing skill set. Which apparently included moving as quietly as Natasha when drunk.

“Everyone is getting ready to leave and it isn’t even 10:30 yet. I get why Pepper had a no phone rule, I get the whole “casually meet the Avengers” bullshit but without their phones and without Tony to distract them they are all bored out of their minds.”

Steve blinked at Clint’s succinct and completely accurate description of the party.

“To be fair, when she was planning this thing she thought she and Tony would both be in attendance,” Steve protested half-heartedly. Clint might be right, but Steve still loved Pepper for trying to smooth over the long list of national and international incidents as of late.

“If someone doesn’t do something soon this party will be dead. Oh, oh, look the mayor’s making a break for it—as soon as he leaves everyone else will follow I guarantee it,” Clint punctuated this declaration with a loud, disgusting burp.

Steve knew they couldn’t let that happen. They had to make this thing work, they had to charm people. The only problem was that none of them were charming (except for Sam, of course).

“Okay, well what should we do then?” Steve asked. He was bad with crowds, he was even worse with party planning.

As if on cue the soft, jazzy background music was suddenly cut off. There were a few beats of silence and then a new song blared into life.

All around them the light in the ballroom dimmed. Conversations were cut short as people looked up and around in surprise. Steve didn’t think this was supposed to be happening.

“Did Pepper book a performer or something?” Clint asked.

“I’m not sure…” Steve began to scan the crowd, everyone seemed just as confused as he was.

A movement across the room caught his attention. Parting the crowd like the Red Sea, a lone man strode out onto the dance floor.

He was tall and broad and walked with an easy grace that Steve would have envied in his younger years. His dark hair was styled in one of those undercuts that seemed so popular among what Tony called “the youth.”

“Who the hell is he and why is he playing Party Rock Anthem?” asked Clint.

The man stopped dead center in the middle of the floor and looked around at the crowd. A slow, sexy smile spread across his face and then he pointed upright at the ceiling. On cue, flashing colored lights began to shine, their patterns casting shadows across the man’s handsome face and highlighting his strong jaw, high cheekbones, and killer gray eyes.

Steve couldn’t look away as the man began to _move_. From around the crowd, five other men pushed their way onto the dance floor. One by one they fell in line with the first guy, moving in a choreographed dance.

“Oh my god, they know the entire Party Rock Anthem dance. They are in matching suits and they are dancing in unison to LMFAO. Steve, be honest, is this really happening? Or have I finally found my drink limit?”

Steve didn’t respond. He was already moving toward where the gray-eyed man danced.

The crowd, shocked at first, slowly began to gather around the group of men and watch. In the back, someone began to clap in time with the song and soon more and more people were joining. As the song played on the men began to grab people from the crowd to join. People who had been moving steadily towards the door were doing an about face.

Steve pushed his way forward through the increasing mass of people. All at once the gray-eyed man was in front of him.

“You want to dance?” The man asked, flashing Steve a great big grin and a wink.

Steve was momentarily transported back in time to all of those nights he’d spent at the local dance hall, standing in the corner with no one to dance with. He instinctively looked over his shoulder to make sure the guy was actually talking to him.

When he looked back the man was holding out one gloved hand. Steve barely gave it a thought and, in a move that surprised even himself, he took it.

The dance floor was getting crowded. The circle that the original men had formed had fallen away as they pulled more people out onto the floor. Steve could see one of the guys had convinced Wanda to join him, a rare smile lighting up her face as the man spoke to her in what Steve thought might be Sokovian.

“It's not as hard as it looks,” the gray-eyed man reassured him. “Here, watch my feet.”

The history books will tell you that Steve Rogers was, and still is, a terrible dancer. It should be noted, however, that the last time Steve had actually tried to dance he’d suffered from so many maladies that simply walking and breathing at the same time had been a major accomplishment.

Steve hadn’t had much opportunity to try out dancing after getting the serum and, frankly, not a lot of desire to do so. But as the gray-eyed man patiently showed him how to move his feet and shuffle Steve found he had no trouble mimicking the movements.

“Yeah, there you go, you got it!” The gray-eyed man cheered. Steve felt buoyant as his feet began to move like the man’s beside him. He didn’t even mind that a handful of reporters were watching him as he danced. For the first time, Steve was having fun dancing. Around them, the crowd began to press in and overhead the song petered out and quickly transitioned into another one.

This song sounded older and, after a few beats, Steve was pleased to recognize Otis Day’s Shout. Around him, people began to jump up and down. The gray-eyed man jostled into him and laughed. With another one of those sexy smiles, he took both of Steve’s hands and began to jump up and down with the other people. Steve felt a little like he was jumping out of a plane without a parachute. His heart was racing, his eyes unable to look away from the beaming gray-eyed man. After a few more moments the man dropped his hands and began to break out into some really fancy footwork.

“Dude, who are these people?” Steve turned to find Sam beside him, a smile on his face.

“I have no idea,” Steve laughed. The gray-eyed man had joined back up with a few of his friends and they were alternating knocking their feet together and spinning. He laughed again. He was actually having a good time.

The song began to quiet as the singer sang “a little bit softer now,” and the blue suited men began to crouch lower and lower to the floor. At the song’s softest all six of them were laying on the floor wiggling. They were ridiculous, and clearly loving it.

From his position flopping around on the floor, the man looked over and grinned at him. Then in a serious show of ab muscles, the man did a perfect kip-up and flipped from flat on his back up and onto his feet. He strode back over to Steve and, turning to Sam, gave him a once over.

“Sorry man, this one’s mine,” the man’s voice was mellow, but the casual possessiveness in his tone left Steve a little weak at the knees.

Steve had long ago realized that he, maybe, sort of, had a bit of a thing for bossy brunettes. Not that he would _ever_ in a million years admit that to Sam. Or Nat. Or anyone.

For his part, Sam could only gape as the gray-eyed man gave him another challenging look and took Steve’s hand. Overhead the song changed once again, this time to B.o.B.’s Magic.

Without hesitating the man pulled Steve onto the floor and began to dance the Lindy Hop, leading Steve around the small area seamlessly. Steve had never been led before. He’d never thought he could dance before either, but with the other man’s guidance and patient smiles, he found himself enjoying dancing more than he had ever thought he could.

“People stopped asking me to dance years ago,” he commented as the man pulled Steve back towards him.

“Why’s that?” The man asked, smiling. Steve wondered if he really hadn’t heard about how terrible of a dancer Captain America was or if he was being polite. Probably the latter.

“Well, I’m known to be a pretty terrible dancer. Famous for it you could say,” He gave the other man a pointed look. The man just laughed and sent Steve out into another spin.

“Maybe you haven’t found the right partner yet,” the man yelled over the crowd as he pulled Steve back in from the spin. The phrase, an echo of what Steve had said all those years ago, felt like a punch in the gut. For a moment he felt breathless, like he was falling, but as he looked up the other man’s gaze caught him. The man seemed to sense Steve’s change in mood and, rather than send him out into another spin, he pulled Steve close. The man was shorter than Steve by a few inches, but, despite the height difference, Steve felt an odd sense of safety wrapped up in the man’s warm embrace. For a few moments, they stood there and swayed, an island of calm in a sea of chaos. Two strangers finding comfort together.

Before crashing the Valkyrie, Steve had hoped that Peggy would be that “right partner” for him. That missed dance used to haunt him constantly, the biggest of the many “what-ifs" in his life.

In the last few years though he had started to lay the past to rest. Peggy had lived a full life and Steve could only do the same if he wanted to live up to her memory. Hearing the phrase again, from a stranger's lips, seemed like a sign.

“You’re a very good dancer,” Steve remarked. He pulled away a bit so he could look down into those gray eyes once more.

“You’re not so bad yourself. Very light on your feet for someone so tall.” The man gave Steve an appreciative glance before moving him through another series of spins.

And then the song was done and the man was holding Steve’s hand up and bowing for the small crowd they found themselves in. The spell was broken as Steve got a look at the crowd, he could practically see the questions ready to pour from their lips.

He dropped the man’s hand. For a few blissful moments, he had been free of the worries and cares that came with the mantle of Captain America.

It had felt wonderful, but he knew it couldn’t last.

He wondered who this man was, a reporter? A social climber? He didn’t seem like either to Steve but his years of friendship with Natasha had taught him that people were never totally what they seemed.

He wondered if it the man was flirting with him for a story.

_(Ten Ways Captain America Invaded My Bedroom_

_Captain America: Letting His Freak Flag Fly_

_Hail to the Chief! Captain America in Bed)_

Steve shuddered at the thought.

If he was smart he would thank the man and let him go on his way. Sure, he’d danced with the guy, but there wasn’t too much of a story here yet. Especially since Sam and Natasha were out on the floor cutting it up with two of the other blue-suited men.

He could still go back to his quiet life.

 _To your lonely life,_ an annoying inner voice corrected. Another long forgotten phrase floated across his mind, " _You start running they’ll never let you stop.”_ The declaration was one he’d made in a simpler time when he had been plain old Steve Rogers. Now he was Captain America and he didn’t have the luxury of privacy or of taking chances on cute men.

Suddenly Steve was mad. Furious really.

Here was a good looking, nice guy who was clearly interested in him and Steve couldn’t do anything about it because the guy might be a reporter, or a reporter might write about it, or, or, or a million possible negative outcomes.

He was sick of it. Sick of having to think through his every move in terms of what other people would think or say.

When had he become so afraid of what other people thought? When had he become so afraid of a risk?

And like that he had made his decision.

Steve turned back toward the man and grabbed his hand. “Let’s go get some water. I think the dance floor will survive without you for a little bit.” He gestured towards the drink table and the gray-eyed man nodded and smiled.

“Sure thing,” the man turned and waved at one of his friends, gesturing toward where he would be before following Steve through the crowd.

Things were getting… rowdy. All of the free drinks people had been pounding in lieu of staring at their phones had finally caught up with everyone. People were drunk and the dark room, flashing lights, and pounding bass of the music had them forgetting where they were and what they were meant to be doing.

Steve took a firmer grasp of the other man’s hand and began to muscle his way through the crush of people. Finally, they managed to push their way out of the dance floor.

There was a sharp tug on Steve’s hand and when he turned the man gave him another wink and pointed towards a small door tucked away in one of the walls. Something in that smile made Steve’s heart beat a little faster. He paused for a moment and then nodded in agreement to the man’s unspoken suggestion.

Without hesitation the man took the lead, pulling them toward the small service exit and out of the loud room. The door dumped them into a sterile-looking service hallway. The heavy pounding of the bass was muffled here and the corridor itself completely empty.

For a brief moment, Steve entertained the idea that maybe he was being kidnapped. He snorted at the thought. Who would have guessed that all it took to lure Steve Rogers away from the safety of his friends was an attractive man?

Still…

“How’d you know this was here?” He asked.

“Always know your entrances and exits.” The other man answered distractedly, his eyes scanning the small hallway. His whole face lit up when he found what he was looking for, a small door tucked away in an alcove ten feet down.

“Bingo,” the man smiled and pointed at the door. Then he promptly tripped over an untied shoelace. Before he could fall flat on his face Steve reached out and caught him by the arm, pulling him close to hold him steady. The man braced his hands on Steve’s chest. Angled as they were, Steve would have no trouble bending down to kiss the other man. His eyes flickered down to the man’s mouth.

It was tempting... but this close to the man the smell of alcohol was readily apparent. Far more than it had been when they’d been dancing together. This might actually be a terrible idea. Even if it did feel amazing to have the man pressed up against him, Steve didn’t want to be someone’s early morning mistake.

“We should go back to the main room, I don’t want you doing anything you regret later.” Steve began to gently pull himself away but stopped when the other man tugged sharply on his arm. “Do I get a say in this?” The man asked, his face surprisingly tender.

When Steve nodded the other man continued.

“Look, I will not lie to you. I am very drunk right now. But I promise that sober me will throw drunk me out of a window if I miss the chance to at least make out with a sweet and handsome guy like you. This is me giving my consent. I like you, I like how you look, and I like how you’ve treated me so far. You are sexy and a great dancer. Now get in that closet.” The man’s voice became commanding and Steve couldn’t resist throwing off a salute before he marched down the rest of the hallway and to the aforementioned closet. Who was he to argue?

The man followed him. There was an extra loud thump of bass from the dance floor and the man groaned. “Oh god, they’ve put on Usher. We gotta hurry up before those assholes find me and try to drag me back to the dance floor. Have I told you about Dugan? It doesn’t matter, just know that Dugan is the world champion cock-blocker. The worst part is, he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. The man honest to god has crashed not one, not _two,_ but THREE of Morita’s dates by accident. God, Dugan is the fucking worst. But also the fucking best. Ugh, I love all of those idiots. How many idiot friends do you have?” The man asked as he squeezed past Steve (with way more grinding then was strictly necessary) and began to try to open the closet door handle.

“Oh, I’d say all of them are idiots in their own special way. So, that’s about eight or nine idiot friends. Except for Natasha and Peggy. Natasha is scary intuitive and Peggy was the smartest person I’ve ever known.”

“Women are, honest to god, one hundred times smarter than men. I don’t even try to deny it, I welcome our female overlords and I’ve made my sister promise to remember that for when they inevitably take over.” The man tried the handle again, this time testing the screws and examining the keyhole with one eye scrunched up.

It was fucking adorable. Steve thought his face would split open from smiling. He didn’t think he’d had this much fun sneaking around with someone since, well, since Peggy. And that had really only been the professional kind of sneaking. This was much more exciting.

When it was clear the lock was not going to budge by conventional means, Steve decided he needed to take matters into his own hands. Literally.

“Here, let me try.” Steve stepped forward and with one twist of his wrist broke the handle and pushed the door open. He laughed at the man’s shocked face and then gestured at the small closet. “After you dollface.”

That earned him a giggle.

Fuck, the man actually _giggled._ It was so cute Steve had to fight back the urge to scoop the guy up and squeeze him. Who was this guy with his sexy dancing, ridiculous friends, and endearing giggly laugh?

“Who are you?” Steve asked as the other man swept past him and into the closet. He wanted a name, hell, he wanted a number. He had a good feeling and it only increased as he watched the guy skillfully wedge a broom handle into place to keep the broken door shut. He always did have a bit of a thing for competent people.

“Me? I’m just a boy from Brooklyn. Now shut up and kiss me.”

Steve was more than happy to oblige.

**Friday, May 11th 4:00 AM**

**Avengers Tower, Manhattan  
**

 “How can there be no record of him? Of any of them?”

Steve paced around the common room again. He’d lost count of how many times he’d circled the large area but he was probably going to start leaving a track soon.

He’d pay Tony back for the carpet. He was too restless to sit down, too upset.

He’d lost him. He’d lost the gray-eyed man.

“There was a no electronics rule. No one brought any in and the hotel doesn’t have the best security cameras. Everything they captured is too blurry for facial recognition software,” explained Natasha with a shrug.

Natasha and Sam were the only other people in the common room. Sam was laying down on one of the massive team sofas, a hot washcloth draped over his forehead (an old family hangover cure, apparently). Nat sat cross-legged on the other sofa, her face carefully arranged in that neutral expression of hers that meant she was trying very hard not to laugh.

He didn’t know exactly where the rest of the team was, but they were all adults (superpowered adults most of them) and they all had various trackers and panic buttons so he decided for this one night not to worry about them. For once he had something else to occupy his mind.

“How is this possible? Tony always has extra eyes during an event. What about Vision, didn’t he scan people when they entered?” Steve tugged at his hair in exasperation and started on another loop around the room.

Natasha sighed. “Steve, the point of the party was to show everyone how normal we are. We asked for no cameras and Pepper made a point to ensure that there wouldn’t be any recordings of our guests in return. It was only fair.”

Steve pulled at his hair a bit more and choked back the urge to growl in frustration. For one perfect half hour, he’d had the world’s sexiest guy in his arms. Now he didn’t even know where to begin to search for him.

“How did you not get the guy’s name?” Sam grumbled from underneath his washcloth. “You spend most of the evening making out with a guy and you don’t even get his name?”

The question brought Steve’s pacing to a momentary halt.

“I did ask but he didn’t answer and then I was, uh, distracted and then someone knocked on the closet and he said he had to check on his friends and, well, he didn’t come back. I thought we’d be leaving together. I thought I’d have another chance to ask…” Steve trailed off awkwardly and looked up to see identical smiles on both of his friend’s faces.

He rolled his eyes at their smug expressions. “Okay, I messed up but I can’t believe we don’t have anything on either him or his friends.” With a sigh, Steve stopped pacing and sat down on one of the couches. He ran his hands through his hair and groaned at how much of an idiot he was.

“We do have his shoes, which you so thoughtfully saved.” Natasha pointed out. He didn’t need to look up to know that she was laughing at him. On the inside of course.

She was right though. After it became clear that the man wasn’t coming back Steve had scooped them up and taken them with him.

“How exactly did you end up with his shoes again?” Sam asked, once again back underneath his washcloth.

“He was, uh, taking his pants off and the shoes were getting in the way.” Steve looked Natasha in the eyes defiantly as he answered. If he hadn’t been he would have missed the brief and genuine smile that flit across her lips.

The situation was ridiculous. The entire night was ridiculous and he didn’t care. For the first time in a long fucking time he felt excited about something, he felt young and foolish, and he wanted to see what else he could feel.

“Steve, we’ll help you find him, okay? We’ve got all of Tony’s gadgets and Natasha’s know-how at our disposal—how hard can it really be?” said Sam.

He was right, Steve knew he was right. They were the Avengers.

Surely they could track down one guy.


	3. In Which Someone Is Literally Trapped in a Closet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has left a kudos or comment! It really brightens up my day to see them. Hope you all enjoy this next installment. As always, this is un-beta'd so please excuse any mistakes.

**Friday, May 11th 9:00 AM**

**New York Marriott at the Brooklyn Bridge, Brooklyn  
**

The hotel receptionist took one look at Bucky and gave him the soft smile of someone who knows exactly how awful a hangover can feel.

And here Bucky thought he’d done an okay job of putting himself together. Apparently, his skinny black joggers, gray hoodie, Three Wolf Moon T-shirt, and large sunglasses (which were definitely his sister’s now that he thought about it) were fooling no one.

Thankfully, the receptionist took pity on him. When he explained what he was looking for (phones, men, shoes and all) she didn’t so much as blink. Instead, she whipped out a notepad, wrote it all down, and went to go check the hotel’s lost and found. As soon as she disappeared Bucky let his forehead drop on to the cool granite counter of the reception desk.

Between the two of them, Gabe and Bucky had managed to piece together a broad outline of the previous night's events. They were as followed:

  1. They had taken Dugan out for dinner and a drink.
  2. Monty had gotten a little too cavalier buying them all shots.
  3. Dernier had bought not two, but three bottles of wine for the table.
  4. All had imbibed a bit too much.
  5. Dugan had gotten it into his thick skull that they needed to have one last hurrah.
  6. Bucky had pointed out the ritzy party going on across the street at the Marriott (that many bulletproof SUVs = rich and important people = fancy = free food and booze).
  7. They went back to Bucky’s place, changed into their groomsmen suits, and successfully infiltrated said fancy party.
  8. Everyone had gotten even more shitfaced.
  9. The unit forgot every rule in the goddamn book and got split up.
  10. Bucky was now fucked.



The final thing they both remembered was that Morita and Dugan had, at some point, demanded Chipotle. Of course, the _actual_ final thing Bucky remembered was pulling someone into a closet and climbing them like a tree, but he hadn’t shared that detail with Gabe just yet.

With only the hotel and Chipotle as leads the two of them had decided to split up. Gabe went to investigate the local Chipotles (there were three close to the hotel) while Bucky had gone back to the Marriott to try and find their phones, his missing dress shoes, and if he was lucky, more leads.

“Well, I found the phones you described and a few different suit jackets but no shoes. Do you want me to rustle up a bag for all of this?” The receptionist's voice surprised him, causing Bucky to jerk his pounding head a little too sharply off of the countertop.

He groaned at the movement.

“Oh, I’m sorry honey. Here, do you need an ibuprofen? Who knew that the Avengers could throw such a rager? Well, we all knew Ironman could but he wasn’t here last night so we thought… I mean, even without him we had to kick a few people out afterward.”

The receptionist continued to chat softly as she dug around in her desk. But Bucky had stopped paying attention, his aching head was stuck on one thing.

“The Avengers?” He practically squeaked.

“Oh yes, I mean, that was the only party here last night. That must have been the one you went to, right?” She stopped rummaging through the drawer and gave him a questioning look.

Bucky and his unit hadn’t just crashed a fancy party.

They had crashed a fancy party hosted by the fucking Avengers.

A memory rose to the surface and Bucky lay his head back down onto the countertop with a groan. He’d danced to Party Rock Anthem at an Avengers party. He and the Howlies had crashed an Avengers party and then danced to LMFAO’s Party Rock Anthem.

They were fucked.

“Sir, are you okay? Do you want me to call someone?”

The receptionist's voice snapped Bucky out of his silent freak-out. With a deep breath, he lifted his head back up off of the counter and took the bag she held out.

“No, no, that’s alright. Thank you for everything. Do you mind if I leave my phone number? Just in case anyone turns up with my shoes.”

“Of course, I’ll keep it up at the desk.” She gave him another soft smile.

Bucky jotted down his cell number on her notepad and mustered up a genuine smile of thanks. Sometimes people weren’t completely terrible.

With a final wave, he began to drag himself down the long hallway to the side exit.

He was halfway down the empty hallway when he heard a soft banging. Curious, Bucky followed the noise down a corridor, turned down an even smaller hallway, and stopped in front of a custodial closet. Another bang rattled the door.

Someone was inside the closet. The banging increased and a few curses could be heard.

Though muffled, Bucky would recognize that British accent anywhere.

“Monty? Is that you?”

A low groan was the only response Bucky got. He tried the door handle and swore when it was locked.

“Monty, hang on I’m going to find a janitor or someone to unlock the door.”

“Sarge? Is that you? Don’t you fucking leave me you wanker. If I’m in here for one more second I’m going to, going to...” Monty’s voice cracked a little bit in panic.

Right. Monty’s crippling claustrophobia.

Another soft whimper from Monty made Bucky’s mind up for him.

Grabbing the door handle with his left hand he ripped the door off its hinges with one vicious yank.

Monty lay in a disheveled pile on the closet floor. His eyes were squeezed tightly together, his breath coming in short, hurried gasps.

Bucky knelt down slowly and took the other man’s hands firmly in his own.

“Monty, listen to my breaths and follow them. You are okay, just focus on my breaths.”

Bucky breathed in slowly for three counts and then out for three counts. After a few beats, Monty began to follow.

They sat like that together until Monty let out one big exhale.

“Fuck. That took me back.” He didn’t say where and he didn’t have to. Bucky had been in that cave with him.

“Thanks, Sarge.” Monty gave Bucky's hand a reassuring squeeze and finally opened his eyes.

“Ohhhh my god, that light is so fucking bright! Am I dead Sarge, are we dead? Fuck, I change my mind close the door, leave me here.”

Bucky ignored the other man's complaints and began helping him stand.

“Come on you drunk,” Bucky scolded, before wedging his hands underneath Monty’s armpits and dragging him upright.

“Ugh, I’m never drinking again.” Monty declared.

“That’s what you said last time. And the time before that.”

Bucky slung an arm around Monty’s waist and began to slowly shuffle the two of them toward the exit. He would call the hotel later about the demolished door.

“How did you get stuck in the closet?” Bucky asked. Monty’s fear of small, dark places was legendary.

“I have no idea, I think someone dared me to break out of it? Some guy, short blond hair, wasted out his mind. I think he said he could escape from anywhere and one thing led to another and then, well, I got in there and it was so dark and warm I think I must have fallen asleep.”

If Bucky could have facepalmed himself he would have. Instead, he wrapped his arm more firmly around Monty and began to pick up their pace. He may have found Monty but Dugan, Morita, and Dernier were still missing. Mindy was still probably out there losing her mind. All things considered, he was still in a big fucking mess.

“Where is everyone else?” Monty asked after they finally navigated their way out of the hotel.

“Couldn’t tell you, I’m still trying to find them.”

“What?! None of them made it back last night?”

Bucky filled Monty in on the entire mess. Mindy’s call, the missing phones, the missing groom, his missing shoes, and the hot Chipotle lead. But he saved the best part of the story for last.

“Oh, and that party we crashed last night? Yeah, that was being thrown by the Avengers so… we really stepped in it this time.”

Besides him, Monty stopped walking. Bucky waited for the cries of "oh shit" or "are you kidding me?"

True to form, Monty did neither. Instead, the bastard started laughing. Full on cry-your-eyes-out laughing.

“Oh my god, Sarge. That is amazing. We gave Dugan the most epic bachelor party imaginable. Holy shit,” Monty gasped. He could barely speak he was laughing so hard.

Bucky really didn't know why he was friends with these people.

While he waited for Monty to collect himself, Bucky dug out his phone from the bag the receptionist had given him.

Surprisingly, the piece of crap still had a lot of battery left. It also had about a million missed texts and calls from Mindy.

He ignored those and called a Lyft instead.

Fifteen minutes later, the two of them were back at Bucky’s shoebox apartment being greeted not only by Gabe but by Morita as well. There was a loud cry of happiness as two-thirds of the Howling Commandos piled into the small space.

“Morita, where the fuck were you?” Bucky yelled.

“You’ll never believe it, Sarge, this fucker here was chatting up some lady from the party right up until I found his ass in the bar next to the Chipotle,” Gabe crowed.

“What?! Who was it? What happened to Dugan?” Bucky demanded as he shuffled Monty over to the couch and gently set him down.

Morita shrugged, a large smile stretched across his face.

“Dugan? No idea where he got to. I didn’t notice him leave, I was too busy talking to Wanda. I can’t believe she agreed to go grab some food with us and then we sat down and, well, she is fascinating,” Morita sighed deeply and stared off into space.

“Not… not Wanda Maximoff?” Bucky squeaked.

“Yeah, so?” Morita asked in surprise.

“Wait… you mean… you mean Morita went on a date with the Scarlet Witch?” Gabe shrieked.

“Yeah, in case you guys hadn’t figured it out by now, that party we crashed last night? That was an Avengers shindig,” Monty called from where he still lay sprawled on the couch.

There was a long silence as Gabe and Morita processed this news.

“Wow, we are fucked,” said Gabe.

“Pretty much,” agreed Bucky. “But-"

Bucky was cut off by the sound of his phone ringing. He quickly pulled it out of his pocket and saw that the number was unknown. On a typical day, Bucky would have sent it straight to voicemail, but it could be one of his lost friends or maybe even someone at the hotel with his shoes. With a sigh, he motioned to the other men to hush and answered.

“This is Barnes.”

There was a beat of silence on the other end.

“Hello?” He tried again.

“I finally got a name then.” The voice was deep and filled with amusement.  

Bucky would recognize it anywhere.

"Who is it?" hissed Gabe. Bucky could feel his ears burn as fractured memories from last night rose to the surface. He could not talk to this man with the other Howlies around. The guy's voice alone was doing strange things to his blood pressure.

Ignoring Gabe's question, Bucky dashed for the small bathroom and closed the door before responding.

“Hot closet guy?” He kept his voice low in an attempt to keep the conversation private from the ears that were undoubtedly pressed up against the door.

The man on the other end of the line laughed.

“You can call me Steve.”

Steve. Hot closet guy was named Steve.

Something about the name set off faint warning bells in the back of his mind. Like he should know this guy…

Well, he had spent the better part of an evening sucking on the man’s tongue...

“Okay then, call me Bucky. How did you get my number?”

“The hotel gave it to me. I have your shoes.” Steve explained, triggering another memory for Bucky.

He remembered bending down to untie his shoes because… because… he’d been trying to get his pants off! He’d taken off his shoes, but when he’d started on the pants someone had starting knocking on the door...

Dugan! Fucking Dugan had knocked on the door looking for him. Bucky could remember shushing Steve and telling him he’d be right back, that his friends were a bunch of cockblockers. And then he’d… well after that Bucky still couldn’t remember how he’d ended up back home.

“Thank you, thank you for keeping them with you.” Bucky was pretty sure if the roles had been reversed he would have left Steve’s shoes. “I swear I’m not normally such a mess.”

“You’re always a mess Sarge!” Monty called from the other side of the door.

“I was happy to keep them safe for you,” Steve continued. “Look, I’m still nearby the hotel. Is there a place around here we could meet and grab a coffee? Then I can make sure you get your shoes back. After all of the trouble I went to keep them safe it wouldn’t feel right putting them in the mail.”

Bucky felt like a god damned teenager right now. Steve’s voice was sending butterflies, FUCKING BUTTERFLIES, fluttering through his stomach.

Any other time, any other place he would have said yes immediately. But there was so much riding on him right now, he had to find the rest of his squad, get Dugan to Mindy, not to mention figure out how much damage he owed the hotel for the door he’d broken, or how fucked up all of the guy’s suits were...

Of course, he did need to get his shoes. He couldn’t afford to buy another pair on his Starbucks salary and VA check. Mindy had been very particular about what could and could not be worn with the groomsmen suits.

Fuck it.

“Sure, there’s a little coffee shop in the same neighborhood called Workhorse. Meet you there in 15 minutes? I won’t be able to stay long though, I’m still, uh, cleaning up some things after last night.”

“Sounds great, it’s a date.” Bucky could hear the smile in Steve’s voice.

“See you,” Bucky hung up with a grin and tried to ignore the little zing of excitement that had shot through him when Steve had used the word ‘date.’

He knew pretty much nothing about this guy.

Okay. He knew literally nothing about this guy. Except that drunk Bucky had very much enjoyed having Steve’s hands all over him. Steve could be a total weirdo. Steve could be a serial killer.

That didn’t mean Bucky shouldn’t at least try to look presentable. He spent the next few minutes smoothing down his hair, reapplying deodorant, and doing his best to make his hoodie and Three Wolf Moon T-shirt look acceptable. Why hadn’t he done laundry this week?

Whatever. He’d led his men through hell and back. He could survive meeting a potential future fuck buddy or whatever in joggers and a dorky shirt.

“Sarge, you ever gonna come out of there and tell us about this hook-up?” Gabe called in a sing-song voice.

“What?” Bucky yanked the door open, quickly sidestepping to avoid Gabe, Morita, and Monty as they all fell inside and onto the bathroom floor.

“Don’t laugh Sarge, we know all about this hot guy you snogged in the closet last night.” Groaned Monty as he tried to pull himself out from under Gabe.

“How the hell do you know about that?” Bucky asked.

“Dugan told me all about it on the way to Chipotle. How could I keep something so juicy like that to myself?” Morita gave Bucky a sly grin as he pushed Monty aside and pulled himself upright.

“I swear to god you guys are a bunch of gossipy old women,” Bucky grunted.

“Not gonna deny that,” cried Gabe, who had made no effort to get up off of the bathroom floor. “Give me that hot gossip.”

Bucky ran his right hand through his hair and then cursed when he realized he’d probably messed it up even further.

“Look, this guy has my nice pair of shoes, okay?" Bucky said.

“How the hell did he get those?” asked Morita.

Bucky ignored the legitimately good question and instead began to give orders. It was one of the things he did well.

“It doesn’t matter. The bottom line is I can’t afford another pair that nice right now so I’m going to go meet up with him to get them back and then rendez-vous with you lot here. In the meantime, Gabe I need you to take stock of whose phones we have, charge them, and see if they have any leads on where Dugan or Dernier are right now. Morita, you seem the least hungover. I need you to assess the damage to our groomsmen suits. Mindy will fucking kill us if we wear stained shirts to the ceremony tomorrow. Monty, I want you to start calling hospitals just in case. Copy that?”

“Sir, yes sir!” All three men shouted, snapping off smart salutes even as they dissolved into laughter.

“What is it now?” Bucky asked. He’d been so sure the drill sergeant route would distract them from his own life mess.

“He’s gonna find you irresistible in that shirt Sarge!” said Monty. He then proceeded to howl like a wolf until Morita and Gabe joined him.

Bucky made sure to slam the apartment door on his way out.


	4. A Brief Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very short chapter... but don't worry, a longer one will be coming soon. ;-)

**Friday, May 11th 10:10 AM**

**Avengers Tower, Manhattan  
**

“Hey Clint,” Natasha greeted as she entered the common room. Clint waved a hand in her general direction. He was too busy cradling a cup of coffee and scrolling through his phone to give more of a response. 

Natasha made a beeline for the fridge but came to an abrupt stop halfway there. She turned back toward Clint.

“Clint?”   


“Yeah?” He grunted.  


“Who is that man sleeping on the couch?”   


“Huh?” Clint finally looked up, first at Natasha and then over to the mystery man passed out on one of the common room's large couches.  


“Oh. Yeah, I have no idea. We hit up a few bars after the party last night and then he passed out in the cab. I don’t speak French so I brought him back here. I thought one of you guys could help me figure out where he lives and shit.” Clint shrugged and then went back to scrolling through his phone.  


Natasha gave herself a few moments to soak all that in. As she did so she carefully examined the man on the couch. He was on the shorter side, with black hair, an unruly mustache, and a scruffy face. He was also wearing a familiar blue suit.

As she watched, the mystery man turned over onto his side and let out an enormous snore.  


“Wake him up. I have some questions.”


	5. In Which an Identity is Revealed and a Groom is Found

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies on the long wait for this chapter! I started grad school a few weeks ago (hooray!) but between having homework again and my full-time job, time to write for fun has been limited. Don't worry though, I fully intend to finish this story (only one more chapter to go!) it just might take a little longer than normal to get the final chapter written and posted. I hope you enjoy this and, if you do, why not leave a comment? ;-D

**Friday, May 11th 10:25 AM**

**Workhorse Coffee Shop, Brooklyn  
**

  
Steve’s stomach was a knot of anticipation.  
  
He had found him. He had found the mystery man from last night.  
  
Bucky. Bucky Barnes.  
  
The name made him want to giggle. It was definitely not what he would have guessed, but the more he thought about it the more he decided it suited what little he knew of the man.  
  
Steve had barely slept last night. Between the serum and the nightmares he still dealt with, it was rare for him to still be in bed after 5 am. But last night had been a different sort of sleeplessness. It had been one born of excitement, anticipation, and of his near-perfect memory tormenting him with scenes from last night.  
  
When it had become apparent that he had lost Bucky his first plan had been to camp out at the Marriott until Nat could pull up more intel. Common sense and clearer heads (Natasha and Sam, respectively) had prevailed and Steve had been dragged back to the Tower and kept from returning to the hotel until after the sun had risen. He should have stuck to his original plan. If he'd stayed at the hotel he wouldn't have missed Bucky earlier that morning. Thank god the receptionist had recognized the missing shoes in Steve's possession and passed along Bucky’s name and number.  
  
Steve already had it memorized.  
  
The small bell on the coffee shop door rang out and Steve sat up straighter as someone entered.  
  
It was Bucky. The knot in Steve's stomach immediately relaxed and he felt an involuntary grin stretch wide across his face.  
  
Bucky had traded out his blue suit for a pair of those trendy running pants and a zipped hoodie. His beautiful eyes were covered by a pair of oversized, rhinestone covered sunglasses, his hair was gently tousled, and his jawline covered in a short layer of dark scruff.  
  
He was as handsome as Steve remembered.  
  
Steve watched as Bucky quickly scanned the crowd. He knew the moment the other man spotted him, there was an almost imperceptible stiffening in Bucky’s posture. A pause in his movements as his eyes landed on Steve.  
  
Steve’s heart sank at the reaction. In the cold light of day and without the influence of alcohol it was probably pretty obvious who he was. Steve sighed, unable to contain his disappointment. It had been so refreshing to be seen as plain old Steve. Now, a cynical part of him wondered, would Bucky become a stilted hero worshiper or a giggling fanboy?  
  
Steve slumped a little bit more at the thought and watched as Bucky gracefully navigated the ramshackle tables and chairs over to where Steve sat.  
  
“Are you Steve?” Bucky asked as he approached the table.  
  
The question caught Steve off guard. Surely Bucky was just being polite, there was no mistaking who he was now. Steve was so taken aback by the question that all he could do was give a nod in response.  
  
Bucky pulled out the chair across from Steve and plopped down.  
  
With a deep sigh, he pulled off his sunglasses and looked at Steve. His eyes were just as stunning as Steve remembered, even with faint dark circles beneath each one. The purplish smudges actually seemed to call more attention to the hints of blue in Bucky’s storm colored irises.  
  
Jesus Christ, he had it bad. He was practically writing a sonnet about the dark circles under this guy’s eyes.  
  
“Can I start by saying, again, how much I appreciate you making the effort to return my shoes. Especially after last night, I’m sorry for everything.” Bucky’s voice was even, his eyes never wavering from Steve’s own. The effect was so mesmerizing that it took a moment for Steve to process Bucky’s words.  
  
“What are you sorry for?” Steve asked, baffled by the apology.  
  
“Leaving you in that closet for one,” Bucky ran a hand through his hair nervously. “My memory of the night’s events might not be the greatest, but I’m fairly certain I wandered off and left you a bit high and dry. So, I wanted to say I’m sorry for that. And, you know, it's a general apology for being kind of a drunken mess. My friends and I completely ruined that party.”  
  
Bucky finally broke eye contact, his gaze flitting from Steve to the window, and back to the door.  
  
“We normally don’t do things like that, well, not anymore. But one of my men is getting married tomorrow and we overdid things a bit during the bachelor party. One thing led to another and…”  
  
“And you crashed an Avengers party.” Steve finished for him dryly, fighting back the urge to laugh.  
  
“Well, yeah. But we didn’t know that was the case until this morning. We’re paying for crashing it today I promise you that.” Bucky grimaced and rubbed a little bit at his temples. He still wasn’t looking at Steve, who found that he missed the eye contact.  
  
“Bucky, as someone who was supposed to be at that party and who has been dreading it for weeks I’m really happy you showed up. I haven’t had that much fun in, well, feels like decades,” Steve let the comment sit there for a beat, waiting for Bucky to react. Waiting for Bucky to exclaim at who Steve was.  
  
“I’m glad you felt that way but I’m sure the Avengers and their people would have something completely different to say,” Bucky sighed and Steve felt sure in that moment that, somehow, someway, Bucky still hadn’t figured out who he was.  
  
The smile that spread across Steve’s face at this realization was a sight to behold.  
  
“Trust me, you and your friends saved that party from becoming one of the most boring events to ever happen in Brooklyn. And considering all the bad press the Avengers have been getting lately I’m positive that they appreciated the help. All anyone can talk about this morning is what a great party they throw and what great moves their blue-suited friends have.”  
  
“Oh god, people are talking about us in the press?” The last part of Bucky’s question came out in a hiss as if he was a balloon slowly deflating.  
  
Steve decided not to mention that #AvengersGetLit was trending on Twitter, or, even more embarrassing, #CapsMysteryMan. Even with the no electronics rule, it seemed his and Bucky’s dance moves had already hit the tabloids. The media might not have an actual picture or footage of the event, but one enterprising journalist had called in a police sketch artist to try to capture the scene.  
  
Natasha had already cut out the final sketch from the newspaper and stuck it to the common room fridge.  
  
“Haven’t you seen the paper or, um, Twitter or anything this morning?” Steve asked instead. Across from him Bucky gently lowered his head onto the table.  
  
“I’ve been a bit preoccupied trying to locate the better part of my unit. I’m still down two, including the groom.” Bucky finally mumbled, his cheek still plastered to the table.  
  
“You lost the groom?”  
  
“Yeah, not the greatest moment of my life."  
  
“Well, he’s a grown man though isn’t he?”  
  
Bucky pulled his head up off the table and met Steve’s eyes once more. “Yes, but I was in the Army with these men. I was their sergeant, I’m a Brooklyn native, and I’m the best man. I should have made sure they all got home okay but instead, I got, well, eh,” Bucky waved a hand at Steve and blushed, “....distracted and now two of them are God knows where in New York City.”  
  
The defeated look on Bucky's face was too much for Steve to bear. “I’ll help you find them,” he announced. He would do anything to see Bucky smile or laugh like he had last night.  
  
But Bucky shook his head at the offer. “It will be fine. The rest of the guys are on it and you’ve already been a big help meeting me here. I wasn’t asking for a hand out of anything. You’re just easy to talk to I guess…” He trailed off and Steve was delighted to see that pale blush creep across Bucky’s cheeks again.  
  
Bucky thought he was easy to talk to. Bucky blushed. Bucky had been in the Army and was loyal and sexy and not boring and if Steve let this man walk away without at least getting a date or something on the calendar he was a damned fool. He opened his mouth to say as much when a loud buzzing noise cut him off.  
  
With a grimace, Bucky patted down the pocket of his hoodie and pulled out a battered phone. “Sorry, things are a bit of a mess this morning. I have to see what this text is.”  
  
He swiped his screen open and Steve watched as his jaw slowly tightened and his brow furrowed. In an instant, Bucky’s eyes went from soft and sad to hard and calculating. This was the face of a man who was used to getting bad news and taking care of it. This was the face of Sergeant Barnes.  
  
“What is it?” Steve asked after a few moments.  
  
“It’s nothing,” Bucky said, already stuffing the phone back into his pocket. His easy demeanor was completely gone. His spine was ramrod straight, unconsciously assuming the military posture drilled into them at basic.  
  
Moving slowly in order to give Bucky the chance to draw away, Steve gently placed his hand on top of Bucky’s.  
  
“Bucky, I realize we only met last night. But I like you and if there’s something I can do to help I want to. Besides, I’m a vet myself and I know how much trouble a soldier can get into without someone to watch his back.”  
  
Bucky closed his eyes for a few moments and then, with a sigh, opened them.  
  
“Someone is holding my demolitions expert hostage and, if I’m any judge, it’s Black Widow.”  
  
Steve could kill his friends sometimes.  
  
“Let me see,” Steve gestured for Bucky to hand over the phone. When the other man hesitated Steve rolled his eyes, “Come on, we both know you could use a second set of eyes on this.”  
  
Bucky sighed again and handed it over.  
  
Steve read through the text quickly:

  
_We have your friend._

_You have 20 minutes to come to Avengers Tower or the French guy gets it._

  
  
Below the initial text was a picture of an unconscious man with Black Widow’s snake bite held against his throat.  
  
Steve wanted to thunk his head against the table. How was it possible that every time his friends got involved in his personal life they managed to completely fuck him over?  
  
He handed the phone back over to Bucky.  
  
“Look, Steve, I gotta go. I only have 20 minutes to make it downtown. It was really nice meeting you. Thanks again for bringing my shoes.” Bucky pushed back his chair and stood.  
  
“No, wait!” Bucky’s eyebrow rose at the panic in Steve’s voice. Some patrons at a nearby table turned. One of them did a double take and Steve knew if he didn’t want Bucky to figure out right then and there who he was he needed to get a move on.  
  
“Let me take you,” he offered in a more subdued tone. “Look, you’ll never make it to Manhattan on the subway in time. I’ll get you there no problem.”  
  
Bucky thought the offer over for a few moments, “Well, if you’re sure…” he finally said.  
  
“I’m definitely sure.” Steve couldn’t stop the big grin from spreading across his face.

  
  
  
***

 

  
As it turned out Steve rode a motorcycle. Bucky had to practically hold his jaw shut with one hand to keep from drooling when he saw it parked outside.  
  
“Here, you can take my spare,” Steve tossed him a helmet and then stowed Bucky’s dress shoes in one of the saddlebags.  
  
In one fluid movement, Steve threw a muscular thigh over the seat, his jeans straining a bit to contain the amazingness that was his ass.  
  
Bucky gulped and sent a little prayer skyward. _Sweet baby Jesus don’t let me pop a boner during this ride_.  
  
Shaking his head free of impure thoughts (well… trying to anyway) Bucky threw his own leg over the seat and slid in behind Steve.  
  
“You’ll need to hold on tight, I’ll have to push some speed limits if we want to make it to the Tower in time.” Steve’s voice was muffled a bit by his helmet, but Bucky could swear it sounded huskier than normal. As Bucky scooched in closer and wrapped his hands around Steve’s flat abs he wondered if this ride was affecting Steve just as much as it was affecting him.  
  
“Here we go,” Steve called, before starting the bike up with a roar.  
  
_Think about Dernier. Think about Dernier in his underwear. Think about Dernier in his underwear in that fucking filthy cave_.

Bucky silently chanted to himself. It helped a little.  
  
Around them, the streets of Brooklyn zoomed past as Steve expertly weaved his way through traffic. They were definitely pushing the speed limits, but Bucky couldn’t care less. It felt like flying.  
  
For a moment he let himself forget about the weight of the night’s events and focused on how good it felt to be wrapped around Steve as the two of them zipped towards Manhattan.  
  
He didn’t know what was waiting for him when he got there. He had sent off a text to the other men asking them to keep up the search for Dugan and check out the man's hotel while he handled the Dernier situation. If Black Widow had found out his name and number than it was stupid to assume the other Howlies were still unidentified. But he would do whatever it took to protect them from any repercussions of his poor decision-making skills. He was their sergeant and he would take the fall for this.  
  
Even if that meant facing the Avengers all by himself.  
  
_Not entirely by yourself._  
  
Bucky didn’t want to get Steve any more involved in this mess than he already had, but knowing that Steve had his back, even for a little bit, helped. Hell, just gazing at the man’s amazing face helped.  
  
From his blurred memories Bucky had known that Steve was probably attractive, but what he remembered didn’t do justice to seeing Steve in person. The man was an absolute unit.  
  
Bucky had been momentarily struck dumb when he’d walked into that coffee shop and seen Steve sitting in the corner, his shoulders pulled up like he didn’t want anyone to notice him. How could anyone miss the guy? How had Bucky been so lucky to make out with him?  
  
Bucky had dated and slept with a lot of attractive men in his time, but Steve was something special. It wasn’t just that he looked like something carved out of marble or that his beard made Bucky want to yell out “TIMBER” in an entirely sexual way. It was the absolute, genuine goodness that seemed to radiate off him that had Bucky completely captivated.  
  
He might be in real big trouble with this one.  
  
All too soon Steve pulled into the small roundabout out front of Avengers Tower. To Bucky’s surprise, he shut off his bike and, once Bucky had dismounted, followed suit.  
  
“What are you doing?” Bucky asked as he handed his helmet back over.  
  
“I’m going with you.” Steve’s tone of voice made it clear that he wasn’t taking no for an answer.  
  
“Really, I’ll be okay. I mean, sure they could probably murder me and dump my body somewhere no one would ever find it, but somehow I don’t think the entire team would be on board for that. That’s not really Captain America or Falcon’s MO.”  
  
Steve didn’t laugh at Bucky’s flippant response. If anything, his face became more serious.  
  
“Bucky, I have to insist that you let me accompany you.” Steve folded his arms and at that moment he looked so familiar that Bucky could swear he knew him… outside of climbing the man like a tree last night. Who did he look like? For a few moments, the two men stood and stared at each other in a silent battle of wills. Well, Steve was staring in a silent battle, Bucky was wracking his brain to figure out why he had this nagging feeling that he should know Steve from somewhere.  
  
Oh my god, was Steve actually a movie star? That would explain the hunched over, hunted look in his eyes when Bucky first arrived at the coffee shop. And the party last night had been for the bigwigs of New York.  
  
Bucky squinted at Steve as alarm bells went off in his head… and then it hit him. He knew exactly who Steve was.  
  
“Steve, be honest… are you that actor in the new Captain America biopic?”  
  
Bucky didn’t think he’d ever seen someone look so dumbstruck.  
  
“It’s okay, I’m not going to have a fangirl moment or anything,” Bucky reassured him. “I don’t really pay attention to celebrity culture and if you’re worried about any PR fallout happening because of our hook-up you really don’t have to be. Believe me, I’m well versed in keeping things classified.” When Steve didn’t react Bucky placed what he hoped was a reassuring hand on the other man’s shoulder.  
  
“It’s really okay. I get what it’s like not to be completely out, the media can be total garbage people. Jesus Christ, look how obsessed they still are with poor Captain America being bisexual. He came out over a year ago and people are still asking him to confirm that, yes, he does like men and women. Ugh, it’s such bullshit. Your secret is safe with me I promise.”  
  
For some reason this, this mini-rant broke Steve out of whatever state of shock he was living in and a small, shy smile curved across his lips. It was the most adorable fucking thing Bucky had ever seen in his life.    
  
“I’m not the actor in the new Captain America biopic but, there is something I actually should tell you before we go in there-”  
  
Before Steve could finish his thought both Bucky's and Steve’s phones began to ring. With a curse from both men, they each dug out their respective device.  
  
Out of the corner of his eye Bucky watched as Steve took one look at his phone, rolled his eyes, and hit the deny button. An unknown number flashed across Bucky’s screen.  
  
“This is Barnes,” Bucky’s voice was laced with annoyance. He already suspected who might be on the other line.  
  
“Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes of the Howling Commandos,” the woman’s voice was a purr, and it sent a little shiver of fear up Bucky’s spine.  
  
It didn’t matter how many years you’d served or what kind of shit you’d seen while serving, the Black Widow was still terrifying.  
  
“You have five minutes to rescue your friend. Leave the bike, bring the man with you, and come to the top floor of the Tower if you want to get him back in one piece.” With that, the line went dead.  
  
“Okay, Black Widow is officially my least favorite Avenger.” Bucky sighed, sliding the phone back into his pants pocket. “Come on, she wants you to come with me. I’m sorry you’re getting so wrapped up in this Steve, I promise you won’t get any of the fallout.”  
  
“Your first name is James?” Steve asked, another one of those adorable, shy smiles on his lips.  
  
“You heard that?”  
  
Steve nodded.  
  
“Uh, yeah, James is my first name. Bucky is a childhood nickname that kind of stuck.”  
  
“That’s really sweet,” Steve said. His smile grew bigger and Bucky felt like butterflies were doing the Lindy Hop in his stomach. All things considered, Steve didn’t seem nearly as upset by this whole mess as Bucky would have been. Of course, Steve also seemed like the kind of person who was incapable of not helping others. Disgusting… and also adorable.  
  
“Thanks, now we better get a move on,” Bucky waved toward the massive front doors of the Tower and the two of them hurried into the lobby. They ignored the reception desk and headed straight for the elevators, jumping in the first one that opened.  
  
“Good morning Sergeant, Captain.” The woman’s voice came from the ceiling. Surprised, Bucky simultaneously jumped and tried to crouch low in anticipation of an aerial attack.  
  
“My apologies for startling you, Sergeant. My name is Friday, both of you are expected on the top floor.” The button for the top floor of the Tower lit up as if pressed and the elevator began to shoot up to the top floor.  
  
As the elevator silently raced toward the top of the building Bucky felt a rush of adrenaline hit his veins. Steve must have been feeling it too because he started to awkwardly shift from foot to foot while they waited to reach the top floor.  
  
“Steve, look, I know what Black Widow said but you really don’t need to go with me. I can handle it and I don’t want you to get in trouble over me and my friends' stupid behavior.” If Steve wanted out he should be allowed to leave, even if it meant that Bucky would be electrocuted to death by Black Widow’s nunchuck things.  
  
“Bucky, for the last time I want to help. But, there is something I should tell you. I thought you would have figured it out by now but I’m not just a regular guy. I’m not an actor either, I’m actually-”  
  
Another ding signaled their arrival and whatever Steve was trying to tell him was cut off as the doors opened and revealed a very menacing Black Widow lounging on a couch.  
  
“Sergeant Barnes, we finally meet in person.” Her demeanor was relaxed, even as she casually flipped a knife from hand to hand. If it had been anyone else Bucky would have rolled his eyes. But since she could probably flick that knife straight into his throat without even blinking, he resisted the urge.  
  
"Is that really necessary?" Steve asked from behind him and tried to step forward. Bucky waved a hand at him to be quiet and gestured for him to stay back while he scanned their surroundings quickly.  
  
The room was large, with floor to ceiling windows on three out of the four walls. A number of couches were grouped around a massive TV screen while a state of the art bar and kitchen filled up the back half of the room. There were two other people in the room with Widow: Falcon was sitting forward on one of the couches and Hawkeye was puttering around the kitchen, seemingly unphased by the drama playing out before him.  
  
The presence of Falcon made Bucky relax, but only slightly. Falcon was definitely the most level-headed of the Avengers. Hawkeye, on the other hand, seemed to be kind of a trainwreck from what Bucky had heard. All three of them were in casual clothes, which Bucky decided was either designed to relax his guard or because they genuinely didn’t see him as a threat.  
  
Their mistake.  
  
“You surprise me, Barnes, I had expected a man of your impressive record and unique assets to show up wearing something a little more… tactical.” She raised an eyebrow and Bucky knew that she was laughing at his Three Wolf Moon shirt. Somewhere along the way, the zipper of his hoodie had fallen down a bit allowing the moon and the first wolf head to peek out.  
  
“I figured I could use the luck.” He commented mildly, still scanning the room for any sign of Dernier.  
  
“Not a bad idea, though between your military record and that arm of yours I suspect you would get a lot farther in a fight with us than most.” She flipped the knife again and this time when she caught it immediately threw it at a dartboard in the far corner of the room. It landed with a soft thud, directly in the center.  
  
This time Bucky did roll his eyes.  
  
Behind him, Steve made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a choked off groan. Bucky risked a look behind him only to see Steve turning as red as a tomato, which made Bucky feel like a complete heel for dragging the guy into this weird, superhero drama.  
  
"It's okay Steve, I got this." He gave the man an encouraging nod and turned back to Black Widow, completely missing the questioning look Sam shot Steve and the small gasp of laughter that Black Widow fought back.  
  
“Okay, cut the crap already. What did you do with Dernier?” Bucky demanded. His voice was calm, but the anger inside his chest was building to a fever pitch. He could feel his jaw clenching tightly and he knew his eyes were probably turning into what his men called "cold murder eyes.” A low whirring filled the room as he clenched his fists and the metallic joints in his left arm began to shift in agitation.  
  
Black Widow wasn’t the only one who could be intimidating.  
  
“Okay, relax. Everyone take a breath he’s just in the bathroom and he’s fine.” Falcon stood and held up his hands placatingly. He flashed a small smile at Bucky and, for some reason, looked over Bucky’s shoulder and gave Steve what looked like an apologetic glance.  
  
“Oh come on Sam, you ruin all of the fun,” Black Widow huffed and began to pout.  
  
Bucky’s arm stopped vibrating as he tried to make sense of what was happening.  
  
“This was all Nat’s terrible idea to get you here so Steve could meet you, which, Natasha, I might add was completely unnecessary since Steve found him all on his own like I said he would.  Look, Bucky, your friend was never in any danger. None of you are in trouble and that picture she sent was taken while he passed out on one of our couches.” Sam took a long inhale as he finished his speech.  
  
"God, Sam you are such a fun ruiner," Nat complained, crossing her arms and pouting even deeper.  
  
Bucky was very confused.  
  
“Steve? Why would you want to help Ste-” Bucky cut himself off as different odd things about his day started to come together. He stood stock still and let his mind work ignoring the questioning stares being thrown around between the Avengers.  
  
After a few beats of silence, he spoke.  
  
“Steve?” Bucky didn’t turn around to look at the other man. He didn’t think he would be able to look at him ever again really.  
  
“Yes?” Steve asked cautiously, walking around Bucky’s motionless body to try and catch his gaze.  
  
“Are you Captain America? ” You could have heard a pin drop the room was so quiet.  
  
“Well…. Yes…” Steve finally answered, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.  
  
Bucky looked out the window and wondered how hard it would be to break the glass and jump out. Probably pretty hard, this place was built to contain Hulks.  
  
How had he not fucking realized that “Hot Steve” from the Avengers party who looked like a famous person and was called “Captain” by a robot elevator in AVENGERS TOWER was Captain Steve Rogers aka Captain America aka a national icon that Bucky had definitely defaced last night.  
  
It’s not like he could say he hadn’t thought Captain America went for guys. He’d ranted about Captain America’s bisexuality to the man himself.  
  
“Bucky? Bucky are you okay? I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier I just-”  
  
Bucky walked to the closest wall and thunked his head against it. He ignored the stares of Steve and the Black Widow and Falcon and Hawkeye and instead closed his eyes and re-played every single embarrassing thing he’d done in front of national war hero Steve Fucking Rogers.  
  
“Sarge! It took you fucking long enough to come and get me.” Dernier’s voice rang out in the awkward silence.  
  
“Uh oh, Sarge you okay? Take a deep breath, don’t throw anyone through a wall. That’s only allowed during escape attempts.” Bucky didn’t open his eyes but he could hear the hurried footsteps of his friend coming toward him. At least Dernier was okay, that alone was worth the humiliation of last night and today... that's what he would tell himself anyway.  
  
“Escapes?” asked Steve worriedly.  
  
“Through a wall?” said Natasha.  
  
“You speak English?!” yelled Clint. “You could speak English this whole time?”  
  
Bucky shut it all out and focused on his breathing before finally opening his eyes again. It was fine. It was all going to be fine. This too shall pass and all that. He just had to focus on getting Dernier, getting out of here, and finding Dugan. Once he got through the wedding tomorrow he could hide in his apartment for the rest of his life.  
  
“You said you were from Paris!” Clint continued to complain.  
  
“Oh, he’s from Paris alright. Paris, New York,” said Bucky and began to push himself off of the wall. He turned back to the Avengers before him and put on his best “this is fine” face. “Dernier’s parents are from France. The dumb kid didn’t learn English until he was five and whenever he’s drunk he only speaks in French.”  
  
Dernier slapped Bucky on the shoulder and smiled, but his eyes were still filled with worry. “You doing okay Sarge?” He asked in a low voice as Clint carried on complaining behind them.  
  
“Once we find Dugan I will be.” Bucky tried to smile and failed miserably.  
  
“Dugan’s missing?” Dernier asked.  
  
“People are missing?” Falcon asked worriedly.

Bucky could feel Steve trying to catch his eye but he couldn’t bear to look at the man right now. Had it all been a fun laugh for him? A game? He wasn’t mad at Steve for making out with him last nigh. That was just, well, hooking up was hooking up and as long as you were both on the same page about it things were fine. But this entire morning Steve had been lying to him.  
  
_You would never have talked to him if you’d known_. A traitorous voice whispered in Bucky’s head.  
  
Great, another voice was talking in his head. Bucky clearly had some emotional shit to sort out, but now was not the time.  
  
“People were missing,” sighed Bucky in answer to Falcon’s lingering question. “Now just one of them is missing, the most important person. The groom.”  
  
“You lost a groom?” Falcon repeated incredulously.  
  
“It wasn’t his fault,” defended Steve. Bucky ignored the warm fuzzy’s it gave him and turned back to Dernier.  
  
“The other stooges are out looking around his hotel just in case. Now that I found you we can go join them and hopefully get him to Mindy by noon.”  
  
“Merde, I forgot about Mindy,” groaned Dernier.  
  
“It’s 11:00 right now. We can help you locate him.” Natasha’s offer was made in a cool, almost bored tone. Bucky knew he should take her up on it, but he was kind of pissed at all of the trickery from the Avengers this morning and he wanted nothing more than to get out of there as fast as possible.  
  
A buzzing in Bucky’s pocket gave him a momentary reprieve from responding. He pulled out his phone and saw it was Gabe. With Bucky’s luck, one of the Howlies had probably broken a leg or been hit by a train.  
  
“Hey, what’s wrong?” Bucky asked, moving a bit closer to Dernier and turning his back on the Avengers for some semblance of privacy.  
  
“WE FOUND DUGAN!” The Howlies’ voices were so loud that Bucky almost dropped his phone.  
  
“What?! Where?”  
  
“That stupid son of a bitch went back to his FUCKING HOTEL! HE WAS THERE THE ENTIRE TIME!” The phone had been passed from Gabe to Morita, but Bucky could still hear the others shouting in the background.  
  
“You have to be fucking kidding me.” Bucky fought the urge to lay down on the floor and weep in relief.  
  
“Sarge put them on speaker phone I can’t hear anything they’re yelling so much.” Ignoring the extra Avengers in the room Bucky quickly did as Dernier asked and switched his phone to speakerphone.  
  
“Je suis content que tu aies trouvé l'idiot!” Dernier declared to general cries of joy.  
  
“You rescued Dernier!” Monty cried.  
  
“Yep, it was quite a fight,” Bucky said dryly.  
  
“How many Avengers did you punch with your metal fist of justice to save him, Sarge? There’s like 50 of them now, right? Ohhh did you talk to that robot guy? What happened to the hot closet guy?” Bucky quickly jabbed the speaker button back off as Monty kept yelling about the Avengers and how Sarge could take them all.  
  
“Look, Dugan’s good to go right?”  
  
“Yep,” came the chorus of Howlies on the other end. “We got him all cleaned up and sent him on his way with his phone. Mindy knows he’s coming so we’re all set!”  
  
“Okay great, good job guys. Dernier and I will meet you back at my place and we can order a big thing of pizza and drink a mountain of water before move out to the dinner tonight.”  
  
“Sir, yessir sir!”  
  
Bucky hung up after that and smiled. They’d done it. His team had pulled together and gotten everyone where they were supposed to be. He laughed in relief as Dernier pulled him into a hug and when his eyes met Steve’s he tried his best not to feel the sting of disappointment.


	6. In Which a Wedding is Crashed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s finished! Thank you all SO MUCH for your patience with this one. As I mentioned in a few comments I started grad school this fall and it has really put a crunch on my free time. So thank you for all of the support and enthusiasm everyone has shown - it was the motivation I needed to get the final chapter written. As a reward for waiting, this chapter is extra long (pretty sure it’s the longest one yet) AND there is a little baby epilogue because I couldn’t resist. I hope you enjoy the conclusion!
> 
> I also want to give a quick shout-out to Dugan’s fictional wife Mindy for being so patient with all of these wedding crashers. I don’t know that I would have been so forgiving as she is in this chapter. For the record, I think Hawkeye is a great Avenger - he just kept jumping in and doing ridiculous things in this story.

**Saturday, May 12th 2:15 PM**

**Richards Manor House, Park Slope**

 

“How are you feeling Dugan?” Monty asked, his grin wide as he took another puff from his cigar.

With 45 minutes left until the groomsmen needed to be anywhere, the six of them were taking advantage of the peace and quiet by smoking some celebratory cigars in the groom’s quarters.

Located right on the edge of Prospect Park, the wedding venue was an old mansion that Mindy’s dad had insisted on renting out for the entire affair. The whole place was the most bourgeois thing Dugan had ever seen but he wasn’t paying for it and if it made his Mindy-cakes happy then it made him happy.

“I’m feeling like I’m ready to get this show on the road,” Dugan answered with a lazy smile. 

Everything up until this moment had been a blur of suit cleanings, rehearsals, and rehashings of the epic bachelor party (unless Sarge was around, then the time was spent NOT talking about the bachelor party).

Dugan had missed most of the Friday drama, happily snoozing away the booze in the comfort of his own hotel bed. He had quickly been filled in on the day’s events, first by Morita, Jones, and Monty and then by Dernier.

Even if he hadn’t been given the nitty gritty details of the whole thing one look at Sarge’s face would have told him that something bad had happened. 

Sarge was putting on a good show. He’d laughed and charmed with the best of them at last night’s reception dinner. Hell, he’d even gotten up early to pick up everyone’s suits from the cleaners. For those who didn’t know him, Sarge appeared to be perfectly fine.

The Howlies knew better. Dugan especially. it was hard not to know a guy after being chained to their side for the better part of a month. He knew that despite the friendly smiles and jokes, Sarge wasn’t happy. He was hurting. 

For all of his charm and swagger, Bucky didn’t bond terribly quickly with people. But once he did, he was steadfast. Whatever else had happened with Steve Rogers, it was clear to Dugan that Bucky had felt a strong connection with the man, which meant Rogers’ deception and rejection had actually landed a blow to Bucky’s otherwise strong sense of self-worth.

If Dugan could, he’d punch Steve Rogers right in the face, national war hero or not. 

“So, what do you want to do with your last 45 minutes of freedom then Dugan?” Morita asked with a wink.

“I’m enjoying just having a smoke with the best group of friends a guy could hope for,” Dugan answered cheerfully.

“Oh stop it, you’re going to make us blush,” Dernier fanned himself and the rest of the men laughed, even Sarge cracked a bit of smile.

A sharp rap on the door cut off the laughter. 

“Who’s that?” Jones asked, turning toward Sarge unconsciously. Dugan had often noticed the Howlies do this, himself included. It was second nature. They might all be out of the service, but Bucky would always be their Sarge and they would always look to him to provide some sort of order.

“Maybe the photographer?” Bucky said with a shrug before ambling over to the door. “Maybe she wants to get some candids of the groomsmen?” 

He had barely finished that thought before the door burst open to reveal a short man with black hair, a black goatee, and the biggest shit-eating grin Dugan had ever seen in his life.

“There they are! My favorite party crashers!” yelled Tony Fucking Stark.

Dugan inhaled sharply in surprise and began to cough as the smoke burned the back of his throat. 

At least now he knew what they would be doing with those 45 minutes.

***

Bucky could do nothing more than gape at the man who stood before him. 

The man being Tony Stark. 

Tony Fucking Stark.

Tony Stark was here. He had skipped his own honeymoon to come back to New York and (probably) personally present all of them with the bill for destroying his party.

“Now that’s what I call being at a loss for words!” Stark said cheerily. “Don’t worry about inviting me in, I can show myself,” he stepped inside of the room and with a wave gestured for a line of people behind him to enter. There were six of them, all dressed in the mansion’s wait staff uniform and carrying an enormous gift basket. 

“Um, what?” Bucky managed to spit out.

“No wonder you got into the party so easily, you clean up nice. You look nothing like your field photos you know that? Tell me, where are the suits from, Hugo Boss? Tom Ford?” Stark asked as he moved out of the way of the wait staff and began to examine each of the Howlies in turn.

“Uhhh, Men’s Warehouse?” Bucky answered hesitantly.

“Huh, who would have guessed? Anyway, it’s beside the point.” Tony chatted, seemingly at ease as he began wandering around the room, his eyes sharp as he took in every minute detail.

“I’ve come to personally thank you for embarking on what was, undoubtedly, your toughest mission yet—saving that turd of a party from the evil clutches of my socially incompetent colleagues.” 

Stark paused for a breath and then went right on talking as the waitstaff quietly set down their baskets on the coffee table and filed out of the room. “Now, I’ve seen your records and they are very impressive, but really not as impressive as what you accomplished on Thursday. So go on, go on, open them!” He gestured at the huge baskets now lined up on the table.

As one, the Howlies looked to Bucky. He couldn’t think of a reason not to open them and gave them a shrug. If Tony Stark really wanted to fuck them over he probably wouldn’t do it with decoy gift baskets. 

Ever cautious, the other Howlies still approached the baskets with care and watched as Dernier, always the most paranoid of the team, carefully tossed his wallet at one of them.

“Oh my god!” Shouted Stark, making the other men jump a bit, “They aren’t rigged to explode or covered in bed bugs or anything I promise. Jesus, I get why you survived out there.” 

Apparently satisfied by this announcement, Dernier began to carefully open one of the baskets to reveal a pile of technology that Bucky was sure cost more than he made in three months. 

“Tah-dah!” announced Tony as the other Howlies began to carefully unwrap their own baskets. “Now, while you lot look at your goodies—that right there is the latest StarkPad, it’s not due out for another 6 months so hang on to that or I’ll have to tell Pepper and she will call my lawyers and you don’t want to talk to them trust me—I need to talk to your Sarge here.” 

And just like that Bucky found himself being gently lead out onto the patio, the French doors shut neatly behind them and Stark blocking his easiest escape route. 

For a few moments, the two men stared at one another. Bucky had no idea what Stark wanted but he was damn sure it wasn’t to say “thank you,” to a bunch of party crashers. 

And then it hit him. 

_ We need to talk. _

He had ignored Steve’s phone call and avoided listening to the subsequent voicemail. He hadn’t been strong enough to ignore the text message when it had come through. Who knew four cliched words could cause so much pain?

_ We need to talk. _

The text had echoed through his mind, replaying itself over and over in Steve’s voice until Bucky had shut off his phone completely. It had been off ever since. 

That must be why Stark was really here, to get Bucky to sign whatever nondisclosure agreement Steve and his lawyers no doubt had ready. 

Bucky felt simultaneously way too hot and bitterly cold.

If nothing else he thought Steve would have known that he wasn’t the kind of guy to kiss and tell tales. 

“Mr. Stark—” Bucky began his voice a whip.

“Mr. Stark was my father, call me Tony.” Tony interrupted with a condescending wave of his hand.

Bucky ignored the building anger deep in his gut and continued. 

“Tony then, let’s level with each other. I know what Steve wants and if signing some sort of nondisclosure agreement is going to be what it takes to put this whole mess behind us then I’ll fucking sign it. But I don’t want any more interruptions or contact between your team and my men afterward.” Bucky crossed his arms. He could feel his face twisting into what the Howlies called his “I throw you through a wall and break your legs” face.

Throw someone through a wall one time and you got a bit of a reputation.

“Wow…” Tony began before abruptly stopping and letting out a long, low whistle. “Wow, wow, wow, this is even worse than I thought. What makes you think Cap wants to put this behind him?”

The question had Bucky stumped. Wasn’t the text obvious? He didn’t want to rehash it, especially not to Tony Stark of all people. 

“Why don’t you ask Steve?” Bucky challenged.

“Because Steve is playing the hermit right now and won’t let anyone on to his floor and, believe it or not, between the two of you I suspect you are the least stubborn of the two.” Tony’s expression turned mulish and Bucky knew that he wasn’t going to give this up. If he wanted the man and the rest of the Avengers out of his life he was going to have to give him something.

Bucky scrubbed a hand over his face and sighed. “He texted me after everything, he said…he said we need to talk,” Bucky admitted and watched in surprise as Tony facepalmed himself with a groan.

“Seriously? Oh my god, this really is worse then I thought. Cap has negative levels of game. Thank god I came back,” Tony began to pace in a little circle in front of Bucky, his hands moving around rapidly as he talked. “Between you and me Pepper was not exactly thrilled but as the team leader it’s my responsibility to make sure the team is happy and all that shit.”

Bucky was pretty sure that Steve was the undisputed leader of the Avengers but Stark seemed to be on another rant and he decided in the interest of time not to interrupt.

“...and really how could I wait on the sidelines after watching the party video and after all of Pepper’s worrying and relief when things went well AND after hearing that Cap fucked things up with you it became clear to me that the Avengers needed their—”

“Video?” Bucky cut in, he had only met Tony five minutes ago and he could already tell that if you didn’t steer the conversation a bit the other man would run himself off a verbal cliff without a moment’s hesitation. 

“Of course, you didn’t think I’d actually go through with Pepper’s silly ‘no cameras and recordings’ rule did you?”  Tony asked.

“Uhh…Yes?”

“Look, I’ll tell you what I told her, it’s not a camera or recording device if it’s Vision’s memory. If his memory happens to be transferable to a computer for review at a later date well, sue me, he’s the first robot-human-god-AI hybrid I’ve made.”

“So, you have a video?” Bucky asked, sensing that Tony was about to go off topic again.

“Yep.” The other man confirmed, carefully popping the ‘p’ on the end of the sentence. “Everything Vision saw from that night I have recorded and oh man, did he see a lot. People kind of forget he’s there… he stands too still and forgets to blink, it’s a problem, we’re working on it…” Tony trailed off and, pulling out his phone, typed something down quickly.

 “Sorry had a thought about that blinking thing. The point is, he happened to catch a very interesting dance number between you and Cap and I have to say, I don’t think I’ve ever seen the good Captain either A. Dance that well in his life or B. Smile that big since he got deiced.” Tony finished with a smile.

There was a pause as Bucky tried to process this announcement. 

“Okay.” He finally said. That was really all there was to say, right? 

“Look Sarge—can I call you Sarge? Cap likes you, like, an embarrassing amount. That brief twelve hours he had you in his life were the happiest and most engaged I’ve ever seen him. And I’ve done my fair share of therapy so I know you can’t make someone else happy, only they can make themselves happy, I get it, blah, blah, blah you did more to help Cap be happy than anyone I’ve ever seen.” 

 “Okay.” Bucky knew he was beginning to sound like a broken record. Honestly though, how was a normal person supposed to react in this situation?

“Sooooo does this mean you’ll forgive him and will go out on a real date with him so maybe he will shave his sadness beard?”

“I kind of like the beard,” Bucky said before he could stop himself.

“Fine, he can keep the beard!” Tony threw his hands up in exasperation. “Just go on a date with him.”

If you had told him last week that he would be having a conversation with Ironman about how he should date Captain America Bucky would have called you a raging lunatic and laughed his ass off. As it was, this was shaping up to be one of the strangest conversations he had ever had in his life.

And, though he would never admit it to anyone, there was a small, weak part of Bucky that desperately wanted to say yes. Even if what Tony said was true and the text from Steve really wasn’t what it had seemed Bucky wasn’t an idiot. How could he possibly hold the interest of a man as amazing as Steve Rogers?

Steve was an actual American hero who put his life on the line constantly to save others. Bucky was some veteran who worked minimum wage and could barely get his men to their own wedding celebrations. 

“Look, Tony, you obviously care about Steve but I think it’s probably better this way. I’m, well, I’m a nobody, I work at a Starbucks and getting that gig was hard for me. Even if Steve hasn’t lied about who he was the entire time we knew each other we all know I’m not the kind of person who’s good enough for someone like Steve Rogers,” Bucky felt like a ton of stones had settled inside of his gut as he explained. Wasn’t it obvious? Couldn’t someone like Tony Stark figure out why he and Steve would never work out?

The smirk on Tony’s face slowly softened into something Bucky would maybe call a genuine smile. 

“And that’s exactly how I know you are good enough for him,” Tony said gently. “That does remind me though,” In an instant, the smirk was back on Tony’s face as he switched topics again.

“I didn’t just come deliver gifts or to play wingman. I have a proposition for you. I need a new head of security for Avengers Tower. My old head of security has his hands full watching Pepper and the guy who I hired to replace him is frankly, terrible. I mean, you got right past him at the party.”

Bucky wasn’t sure he was entirely following. 

“Are you saying that Vision is your head of security?” He asked.

“Well, he was, but he’s not devious enough for the job and he doesn’t really understand, uh, lying and that people tend to do it constantly? Plus he’s terrible at managing a team, people are a little unnerved by him for some reason.” Tony said, scratching his chin.

 “Well, the lack of blinking probably doesn’t help,” Bucky suggested dryly.

Tony shrugged. “As I said, he’s my first so I’m still working out the kinks. Bottom line is he can’t manage it, he’s happy not to do it, and I’ve seen your records and I think you’d be perfect.” Tony grinned again and rubbed his hands together eagerly. 

“Is this a bribe to date Steve?” Bucky asked bluntly. He refused to be anyone’s charity case, especially since this kind of felt like he would be starting a job with an HR nightmare already hanging over him.

Tony waved away Bucky’s statement like he was the crazy one. “Nah the offer stands whatever happens with you and the Capsicle. Also, it’s about time for an update on that arm of yours, it’s been acting up lately, right?

“How did you—” Bucky started to ask before being cut off once again.

 “Supergenius, remember? You’re gonna get that payment to the hotel reimbursed by the way. I covered it.” Tony declared.

 “Uh, this is really way too much. The gift baskets, the job offer, paying for the door, not to mention not suing us for trespassing… What’s your game here?” Bucky’s trailed off, his tone saturated with suspicion. People did not do nice things for complete strangers.

Tony laughed.

“Game? No game Sarge, I’m keeping myself entertained. Watching this entire situation play out has been the greatest wedding present I could have asked for. I also have a feeling weird things happen around you and I’d be an idiot not to get that on my team to help beat back the ennui so common to a philanthropist, billionaire, genius, ex-playboy’s life,” he explained with a rather maniacal grin.

“Is that what you put on all your name tags?” 

“Hah! And a grumpy sense of humor. I’m definitely getting you in my payroll somehow. Mark my words. So are you in or out on the whole Steve thing and the whole job thing?” Tony waved his hand around in question.

“I need to think about it. For both,” Bucky said firmly. 

 “I guess that’s reasonable,” Tony sighed. “Here’s my card, call me when you decide on the job and remember whatever happens with you and Steve the offer stands. Hell, even if you don’t want the job or Steve still come in, we need to get that arm figured out.”

With that, Tony gave a taunting salute and before Bucky knew what was happening lifted his arms, called his armor to him, and blasted straight off of the patio and into the air. 

This had definitely been one of the strangest conversations in Bucky’s life.

**Saturday, May 12th 3:00 PM**

**Avengers Tower, Manhattan**

 

It was common knowledge that Steve Rogers couldn’t get drunk.

This was only half true. Steve Rogers couldn’t get drunk on human alcohol, Asgardian liquor was another story. 

The discovery had been made at one of Tony’s exhausting New Year's Eve parties. Steve would never forget how the room had spun when he stood up to try and make his escape. He had been so surprised he’d tipped right over.

Tony had turned the video into a .gif and still liked to randomly text it to Steve just to be a dick.

Even with this discovery, Steve didn’t imbibe all that often. He’d never been much of a drinker, to begin with, but it was nice to sometimes have a nightcap with his teammates after a successful (or unsuccessful mission).

Steve would categorize the whole Bucky debacle as an unsuccessful mission.

He had waited all of five minutes after Bucky’s hurried departure to call him. His heart sinking lower and lower with every ring. He left a voicemail when prompted and then sent off a short text. 

After an hour with no response, he tried calling again. This time he was sent straight to voicemail, he didn’t bother to leave another one.

The rest of the afternoon had stretched out with nothing pressing to do and nowhere pressing to be. It was a stark contrast to the excitement of the past day.

He didn’t know what to do. He was angry. Angry at himself and his friends. Angry that he’d hurt the first person he’d actually connected with in years. 

And so with nothing else to fill his afternoon and no desire to talk to Nat or Sam or even Clint (even though all three had been calling him and trying to access his floor ever since he’d stomped out of the common room that morning) he had decided to have a tiny drink from the keg of Asgardian liquor that Thor had given him last midwinter. 

What Steve had forgotten was that when it came to Asgardian liquor he was a bit of a lightweight.

This was why when Tony Stark barged on to Steve’s floor the next afternoon he found the national icon passed out on the couch, head lolling off the cushion and feet flung carelessly across the top.

“Up and at ‘em sunshine!” Tony yelled. Steve jolted awake with a groan and promptly fell off of the couch and onto the unforgiving floor. “God, you would not believe how long I’ve been waiting to interrupt someone else’s drunken stupor. I never would have guessed it would be yours, life certainly is full of surprises!” Tony continued.

From his position on the ground, Steve listened as the other man made himself at home, his footsteps moving from the kitchen to the TV room, to finally come to a stop next to Steve. 

“Come now, is this anyway for the future Mr. Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes to act?” It took a beat or two for Tony’s words to penetrate Steve’s aching head but when they did he sat up so fast he almost hit his head on the coffee table.

“Who told you?” Steve demanded, ignoring the dryness in his throat and unrelenting pounding in his head.

“Come now Steve, did you really think I’d let that party happen without a way to keep tabs on everyone?” Tony’s grin was pure evil. “And from what I saw you and the dear Sergeant had quite a connection.” He wiggled his eyes suggestively while Steve buried his head in the couch in an attempt to smother himself and not have this conversation. 

Tony continued undeterred, “So when I heard you blew it I knew I had to come and save the day. You can thank me at your wedding.”

Steve paused in his suffocation attempts and turned back toward Tony.

“Tony… what did you do?”

**Saturday, May 12th 3:05 PM**

**Richards Manor House, Park Slope**

Bucky wasn’t sure how long she had been sitting there, but it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes. He might not be in the Army anymore but he couldn’t completely break the habit of scanning his surroundings and he knew for a fact she hadn’t been sitting there the last time he’d scanned the room.

It didn’t matter that Mindy was in the middle of making her grand entrance, or that Dugan was beginning to hardcore cry, the moment he spotted her flaming red hair all Bucky could do was stare, smile frozen in place, at Natasha Romanoff sitting comfortably in the last row of chairs.

Dressed in a dark green dress and with her hair pulled into a tight updo, she was the picture of a perfect wedding guest. Her disguise was completed by the large friendly smile on her face and the hint of moisture in her eyes.

She was fucking good. 

Feeling his eyes on her she sent him a wink before turning back pointedly to the bride.

The audacity of the action was enough to snap him back to attention, just in time to hand Dugan a tissue as the man’s nose began to run.

It wasn’t until after the ceremony that Bucky was able to track her down. She was set apart from the rest of the crowd, nursing a cocktail at one of the high tops sprinkles throughout the mansion’s ballroom.

“What do you want?” Bucky demanded by way of greeting.

If she was put off by his brusque manner she didn’t show it. “James, I must say I was impressed by how quickly you spotted me during the ceremony. You really should take Tony up on his offer, you’d do a superb job.” She gave him a smile so sweet that he momentarily forgot why he didn’t like her.

Jesus, she really was good. 

But it took more than a wink and a smile to distract him. “Is that what this is about? Because I already told him I’m not making a decision on that right now.”

“Oh no, that’s just a perk,” she said. “I’m actually here to apologize and to ask you to forgive Steve and go out with him on a date.”

“What?” Bucky practically hissed. If he had been dumbstruck before now he was, well he was, completely flummoxed.

“Look, it’s clear how much the two of you like each other. He hasn’t spoken to any of us for a full day and that’s never happened before. Go out with him. What’s the worst that can happen?” She asked with a nonchalant shrug. 

“That’s not, this is, this is—“ Bucky spluttered at a loss for words in the face of her blasé attitude.

“Look, between you and me Steve’s been, well, I’m concerned about him. He needs more than the fight. He needs a life, and I think you would help him with that,” she concluded, unphased by Bucky’s spluttering.

“Why me? Why are you telling me this?” Bucky finally managed to spit out. She gave him a careful once over before answering.

“I’ve seen your file Barnes and you’ve seen some shit. You’ve got grit and you kept living. Steve’s seen some shit too and he’s pushed through, but I think he could use some pointers on the living part. Plus, you have that common life experience that I think he’s been looking for,” her mouth quirked up a little bit as she said the last part. Bucky got the feeling that he was missing some sort of joke. 

He was saved from having to respond by the arrival of Dernier.

“Who do you share life experiences with Sarge?” Dernier asked, coming up from behind Bucky to sling an arm around his shoulders. He was mid-laugh until his eyes slid over to see who Bucky was talking with.

“You!” Dernier cried as his eyes landed on the Black Widow. “What the hell are you doing here Nat?” 

“Nat?” Bucky asked, confused at the familiarity. He could barely refer to Black Widow by her first name even within the relatively safe confines of his head.

“I’m trying to save Steve and James’s burgeoning relationship, obviously. We still on for coffee next week?”

“Oui madame,” said Dernier with a grin. Bucky watched in shock as his friend practically beamed at her. She grinned, honestly grinned, at Dernier before turning her attention back to Bucky.

“Think about what I said, James. Steve is one of the only genuine people I know and he deserves to be happy. Know that when I say you seem like you might be good enough for him I don’t say so lightly. Don’t disappoint me.” Her eyes flashed in warning for a split second before warming once more. With one last sip from her drink, she gave both of them a nod and sashayed away, disappearing easily into the crowd.

 “Um, what just happened?” Bucky asked giving Dernier a questioning look.

“I’d say you got a Black Widow special: a pep AND shovel talk mon ami,” Dernier answered. He must have already had a drink or two if he was slipping into French.

“Okay, what was that whole coffee thing?” Bucky asked, eager to think about anything besides the whole Steve thing.

“She needs a consult on something and I offered my services. It’s a bit hush-hush, you know the drill, Sarge.”

“Oh,” It hadn’t occurred to him, but Bucky supposed that Dernier really had spent quite a bit of time in Avengers Tower before he had arrived.

“She is right though, you and Cap should get together. You’re both stubborn and really into self-sacrifice. It’s a match made in heaven.” Bucky’s attempt to avoid any further conversation about the state of his and Steve’s relationship was not panning out.

“Think how much fun the two of you could have arguing over who gets to sacrifice more?” Dernier laughed and at that moment Bucky knew that he was never going to hear the end of this thing.

**Saturday, May 12th 3:27 PM**

**Avengers Tower, Manhattan**

 

Much to Steve’s frustration, Tony had refused to tell him about his “help” until after Steve had showered, eaten, and “generally gotten his act together.“

“I’m helping you out here Cap, you gotta look presentable because as soon as I tell you what a service I’ve performed you’ll be hugging me and rushing out to see your love.”

Steve was seriously considering throwing Tony out the window. How was this one of his closest friends? 

Finally, after cramming some leftover Chinese food in his mouth, guzzling a few glasses of water, and taking the shortest shower of his life, Steve sat expectantly on his couch. In the intervening time, Tony had settled into one of the high back chairs across from Steve, his fingers steepled and his face about to crack in half from the smile on his face.

“Okay, I’m presentable now tell me what the hell you did,” demanded Steve when it became clear that Tony was content to milk the moment.

“Tsk, tsk, Steven language,” Tony scolded, that damned smile still stretched large across his face.

“Tony, I swear to god if you don’t tell me what you did so help me I will—“

“Sirs,” interrupt Friday. “Ms. Romanoff is calling with an urgent message.”

Steve sighed. Whatever Tony had done would have to wait. Duty called. 

_ Duty always called _ said a small and bitter voice in the back of his mind.

“Put her through,” Steve commanded. “Nat? I’ve got Tony with me, what’s going on?”

“I should have known Tony would be there. It appears you’re one step ahead of me for once Stark.” Nat sounded amused. A cold feeling filled Steve’s stomach.

“Nat… what did you do? What did both of you do?” He demanded.

“Steve don’t sound so terrified. I just dropped in on a wedding and had a chat with our favorite Sergeant.”

“What?!” shouted Tony. “Romanoff stop stepping on my coattails I’m the one who went to talk to Bucky boy! I convinced him to take a job at the Tower and as a bonus I got him to agree to think about going on a date with Steve. I’m the better friend Steve,” Tony was staring at the ceiling as he shouted, as if Nat could be found up in the rafters, Knowing her as he did, Steve mused that actually was a possibility.

“I wouldn’t go so far as to say you convinced him to take the job. He told me he would have to think about it, I do think he’s coming around to giving you another chance though Steve. Steve?”

Steve felt like he was going to explode.

“Did he have a heart attack?” Nat asked.

“No, though he looks like he might spontaneously combust,” said Tony.

“Really Steve there’s no reason to do that. James clearly has a big thing for you,” reassured Nat.

 Steve opened his mouth to start yelling but Tony cut him off. 

“Ohhhhh yeah, he told me he thought you were too good for him. As in Steve Rogers you, not Captain America you.”

“He said that?” 

Tony, sensing a weak point, didn’t hesitate to pounce. 

“He said Steve Rogers was way too good him and that he thought you were probably better off without him. He also said that he likes your beard.”

Nat snorted.

Steve felt the closest thing to hope since he’d gotten on that elevator with Bucky yesterday. He decided to shelf his speech on personal privacy and keeping noses out of someone else’s business. For now.

“You both better tell me exactly what you did and said. Maybe I can salvage this.” Steve announced. 

After all, he was one of this century’s greatest strategists.

 

**Saturday, May 12th 7:00 PM**

**Richards Manor House, Park Slope**

 

Bucky couldn’t say he was all that surprised when the third wedding crasher of the evening appeared, though he was surprised by the man’s mode of entry.  

“That’s the bastard who locked me in that fucking closest,” exclaimed Monty as Hawkeye dropped down lightly from one of the air vents and on to a dark corner of the dance floor. 

Thank god the majority of the wedding guests were wasted or they definitely would have noticed the man’s not so secret entrance.

“How is that guy even an Avenger?” Gabe asked as he held Monty back from racing across the reception hall to tackle the other man.

“Monty, calm down,” commanded Bucky. “We are already on real thin fucking ice with Mindy, we CANNOT be responsible for a fight in the middle of her wedding. I’ll go over there and see what he wants.” Though Bucky had a strong suspicion he could already guess why Hawkeye was here.

Moving easily through the packed dance floor, Bucky made a beeline for the interloper. Like Black Widow, Hawkeye had made an attempt to blend in. Unlike Black Widow, he had done a terrible job. Dressed in an ill-fitted brown suit and slightly crooked purple bow-tie the man stood out like a sore thumb.

“What do you want Hawkeye,” Bucky asked with a sigh once he reached the archer.

“Barnes! Thank god I found you.” Hawkeye cried. “Here’s the thing, I came to tell you that you and Steve are making a big mistake. Steve is the best guy I know, seriously, he’s like so shy so—” Bucky cut him off right there.

“Hawkeye, I’ve already had this conversation with two of your other teammates and I need all of you to collectively _ butt out  _ of my personal life. I DO NOT appreciate random Avengers dropping in at my best friend’s wedding to try and get me to bone their boss. Crashing a party is one thing, showing up at stranger’s wedding is a whole other ballgame.”

“Well, I guess that’s another strike against me,” said a deep, unmistakable voice behind Bucky.

Bucky wondered if it was possible to melt into the floor from embarrassment. Probably not. Which meant he had to actually be an adult. 

Ugh.

Squaring his shoulders, Bucky turned around to face Steve. 

And holy shit did Steve look amazing in that tailored suit. How could Bucky have forgotten how hot he was? Or how broad his shoulders were? Steve honestly had the kind of shoulders a guy could ride off into the sunset… and that beard. 

Sweet baby Jesus.

Behind Steve Bucky could see all of the Howlies (sans Dugan) with Hawkeye (who had someone procured a drink in the five seconds since Bucky had seen him and oh my god was that Black Widow and Stark?) clustered around a tabletop, drinks in hand and looking like they were at the entertainment event of the year. 

“Umm, hey,” said Bucky awkwardly. Oh my god, could he just die already and get this over with?

“Oh good, you found him,” Dugan announced, sweeping in and clapping a hand on Bucky’s back.

“Found me?” Bucky asked. 

“Can you give us one second Steve?” Dugan asked cheerfully. He didn’t wait for a response before dragging Bucky a little bit farther away.

 “Here’s the thing Bucky, Howlies look out for each other so when a little spider told me that Steve needed to apologize ASAP I decided to take matters into my very capable hands,” Dugan explained calmly.

“What about Mindy? The guest list?” Bucky distinctly remembered the ironclad no additions policy that had been talked about at length in the months leading up to the wedding.

Dugan laughed, “Are you kidding me? Mindy loves Captain America. She was thrilled to have him on the list. Plus that whole thing with her aunt canceling yadda-yadda we had the room and she cares about your happiness to Bucky.” 

Bucky found that kind of hard to believe. Looking out over the dance floor he found the bride. Feeling his gaze she turned and, in a move that completely astonished him, gave him a manic grin and two big thumbs up. She then upped the ante by pointing at Steve, pointing back at Bucky, and making a very lewd gesture that Bucky would have never even imagined Mindy knew.

Mouth agape he turned back toward Dugan. 

“She’s been drinking since noon,” Dugan said with a shrug. “Now, go get him, Sarge!” 

With one more clap on the back, Bucky was spun around and pushed towards Steve. Unprepared for the shove, Bucky found himself tripping over his feet until two steady hands caught him. 

He looked up and into the ungodly blue eyes of Steve Rogers. His mind raced for something to say, uncomfortably aware of the number of people watching them right now.

“What do you say we go somewhere we can talk in private?” Steve asked with a small and somewhat nervous smile.  

A part of Bucky’s still hurt feelings melted away under that shy smile. 

“You read my mind,” Bucky agreed. “We have terrible friends.” Steve’s smile became a little less shy at that and Bucky found himself pointing toward the patio doors, “We can try the garden.” He gestured behind Steve to the double doors that would lead them to the mansion’s backyard.

“Great,” said Steve. “Lead the way.”

***

 Steve still wasn’t quite sure how he found himself here when less than four hours ago he hadn’t thought he’d see Bucky ever again. While he was still annoyed at Tony and Nat (and apparently Clint?) for trying to intervene and meddle in his personal life, they were a large part of the reason he was here. Not that he would ever admit that to either of them. 

They were already insufferable.

After hearing them out it had become clear to Steve that he needed to do some damage control — fast. His original plan had been to prostrate himself at Bucky’s door on Sunday, flowers and hat in hand, but Natasha had squashed that idea. 

“In situations like these, it’s important to move fast. We need to get you to that wedding today,” she insisted.

The idea of crashing a wedding wasn’t something Steve felt too keen on but, as always, Nat was a few steps ahead of him and had already procured an invite and instructions from the groom to but wait until the dancing started to show up.

The instructions were simple enough, but it had been hard to wait. Tony and Nat’s competing advice on what to say and how to dress hadn’t really helped pass the time either.

None of that mattered now though. Now he was following the man of his dreams outside to a large garden filled with all kinds of flowers and elaborately decorated with delicate tea lights. 

He supposed there were worse places to grovel. 

Bucky wound his way past the open courtyard, where a few guests mingled and headed for the back of the garden before coming to a stop. “Well, between my men and your friends I doubt we’ll really get much more privacy than this barring international travel,” Bucky joked with a strained smile.

It was painful to watch. Steve didn’t want Bucky to feel uneasy or uncomfortable around him. He wanted that easy comradery back that they’d had at the party and the coffee shop. And he clearly had some work to do to get there.

“I doubt even putting an ocean between us and them would do much to ensure our privacy, and what I need to say is too important to wait,” said Steve. He almost kicked himself at the walled-off expression that fell over Bucky’s face.

He needed to set things right between them.  

Steve had never been known for his subtlety and he didn’t bother with it now. “I like you Bucky, I like you a lot.”

An unnamed emotion flashed across Bucky’s otherwise stony face. 

“You have to understand something about me,” Steve paused and tried to reorder his thoughts. He had never been particularly forthcoming with his emotions and it was… difficult. However, if he wanted a chance with someone, a real chance, he knew what he had to do. He had to be honest and, possibly, a little vulnerable.

He would rather jump out a plane without a parachute.

“I’ve never been particularly good with people,” Steve pressed on. “I’m not extroverted by nature and it’s hard for me to really… connect. Ever since I got deiced and Captain America became this, this icon, it’s made it even harder to get to know people and to have them really get to know me,” Steve risked another glance at Bucky and was bolstered by the slight softening he saw in his expression. 

“I know we only met a day ago, but I felt a connection with you. You make me feel like I’m more than Captain America or a trophy that you want to tell your friends about. With you, I felt like myself, like I could be plain old Steve Rogers. I can’t tell you how wonderful that felt.” 

He paused again and looked Bucky straight in the eyes. “So I did a bad thing and I lied to you. It was wrong and what my friends did was really wrong. I’m sorry I mislead you and that I hurt you, but I’m not sorry that I got a chance to know you as myself.” Steve squared his shoulders and pushed on. 

“I like you Bucky and I want to take you out on a date. A real date, with no missing friends, or party crashing, or secret identities, just Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes out on a normal date to get to know each other. Would you be willing to give me that chance?” 

As Steve waited for Bucky’s answer he tried to soak in as much about this moment as he could, knowing that it could be the last time he ever talked to Bucky. As the silence stretched on Steve took in the cool night breeze and the way it gently tossed Bucky’s hair. The white twinkle lights strung in the trees overhead reflected in Bucky’s eyes, making them seem even darker than their normal stormy gray. If he had the opportunity Steve knew he could fill an entire sketchbook trying to capture those remarkable eyes.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Bucky spoke. “First of all, there’s nothing plain about Steve Rogers.”

Steve’s heart thumped in his chest, a little bit of hope growing.

“Secondly, I’m still mad that you didn’t tell me what I was headed into before we went into the Tower… but I can understand why you didn’t,” He paused, thinking carefully over his next words. “I probably could have handled things better afterward but I thought… I thought maybe I was some sort of joke to you.” The quaver in Bucky’s voice was slight, but it hit Steve like a ton of bricks.

“Buck I never—” Bucky cut him off before he could finish.

“That’s as much my own thing as it is this particular situation,” he paused again and then nodded to himself. “I accept your apology Steve and, as long as you can promise there will be no more superheroes crashing things, I would really like to go out on that date with you.” 

The smile that stretched across Steve’s face threatened to break it in two. Before he could control himself he reached out and, taking hold of Bucky’s shoulders, lifted the other man up and kissed him. 

Feeling Bucky stiffen in surprise, Steve pulled back hurriedly.

“Oh god, I fucked this up again, didn’t I? I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have, I should have asked. Look, can I kiss you?” Steve managed to blurt out like a complete idiot. 

Seeing the absolute panic on Steve’s face melted whatever lingering doubts Bucky had. Without saying a word, he stepped in close to Steve and, ignoring the man’s continued apologies, tugged him down for another kiss.

If there were distant cheers from the reception hall both Bucky and Steve ignored them.

 

**Saturday, May 12th 8:30 PM**

**Richards Manor House Garden, Park Slope**

 

“Steve?”

“Yeah, Buck?”

“What do you say we go find a closet?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”


	7. In Which Someone is Late to the Party

**Sunday, May 13th 10:00 AM**

**Bedford-Stuyvesant, New York**

 

Bucky woke up to a pounding.

This time it was outside of his head.

“Buck?” The voice was a whisper of noise. Its owner was currently curled around Bucky so tightly that he felt a bit like a burrito. 

It was an amazing feeling. 

What was also amazing was the way Steve pressed a gentle kiss against his forehead before whispering again. “Buck? Someone is at your door. Do you want me to go answer it?”

Bucky decided he probably had to get up. It was rude to make your (hook-up? Date? Boyfriend?) answer your door after only one kind-of date. (Did making out in a garden/closet count as a date?)

“No, it’s fine. I’ll get it.” Bucky yawned and then began to untangle himself from Steve’s octopus-like hands.

“How about I get started on breakfast then?” Steve offered. He leaned back against Bucky’s headboard, arms behind his head and body completely on display. The pose was so casual Bucky knew the other man had no idea how yummy he looked.

Jerk.

“Nah, stay in bed. I’m not done with you yet,” he smiled wide as Steve’s pupils dilated with interest. 

Dragging on a pair of sweatpants and shirt from the floor, Bucky walked the four steps across his shoebox apartment and peeked through the peephole in his door. He stared at the person on the other side for a few moments and then slowly pulled back.

“Uh, Steve?”

“What is it?” Steve asked, straightening up on the bed. 

“This one might actually be for you…” Bucky answered with a slight smile. He pulled the door open a little bit to reveal the Falcon standing awkwardly in his hallway.

“Bucky, hey man,” said Falcon, diving right into what was probably a carefully memorized speech. “You might not remember me but we met briefly at the Tower the other day. Look, I know you’ve been busy with your friend’s wedding and I am sorry for the imposition but I wanted to apologize and—“

“Sam?!” Steve cried, before falling off the bed in an effort to find his underwear.

Bucky couldn’t help it. He began to laugh.

“Steve?!” Sam stuck his head inside and watched as his friend tried to simultaneously hide beneath a sheet and stick his legs into his briefs.

“Sooooo I guess you two worked it out then?” Sam asked with a crooked smile.

“Yeah, you could say that,” Bucky said. “How about you give us a few minutes to get our shit together and we all go grab something to eat? Steve can tell you all about it.”

And they did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The entire time I was writing the final chapter I kept thinking about how Sam would crash Dugan's wedding on Steve's behalf and I came to the conclusion that he wouldn't. He's too polite and way too normal in my opinion to be that rude (unlike the rest of the Avengers in this story!)
> 
> I realized Sam would probably wait a polite amount of time before approaching Bucky and voila, this scene popped into my head. I hope you enjoyed this and the rest of the story! Please leave a comment if you did - I love hearing from you!


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